GENGHIS KHAN; in my own words #1 An Introduction



Before we proceed any farther please allow to clear up a big misunderstanding regarding my name. It is not Genghis Khan.


My birth name is Temujin.


My chosen name is Genghis.


Khan is my title.


This is my image.



While I am at it  – – – please allow me to state that I am not the terrible person that most everyone makes me out to be. I am merely following a long-held tradition of my people; protection of pasture land and accepting other clans that wish to join us.


This is not much different than the lifestyle and traditions of Abraham, Lot and, of course, Mohammed.


However, I do understand your concerns about me. Therefore I start from the beginning which was long before I was born.


I hope you follow this series of posts. That way you may be able to understand me a little better.


Tomorrow’s Post;  #2   Jacob Abbott’s Discovery




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“First, the ego arises and sees objects as external. If the ego does not rise, the Self alone exists and there is no other.”

Ramana Maharshi


Why God gave you me is not so hard to see,

My unbounded courage enhances my humility.

I am most humble, in an unpretentious way,

“He has abundant virtues” I am sure people say.

As you ponder my vast and countless charms,

Remember only God could put me in your arms.

If I were God, existent from beginning to the end,

I know quite resolutely, I would be my best friend.

Why God gave you me is not so hard to see,

My unbounded courage enhances my humility.

Consider yourself fortunate to have once laid eyes on me,

It is a deeply held visage that many others wish to see.

To be in your prestigious position, to hear my brilliant thought,

They would clap and chant feverishly, “What Hath Waldo Wrought?”

So when I appear as a pinnacle, so painfully unreachable,

Remember the resplendent way, I remain un-impeachable.

Why God gave you me is not so hard to see,

My unbounded courage enhances my humility.

Picture my humility and my unmatchable gallant presence,

And I will magically appear in all my wonderful essence.

Others have worked desperately, often in perspiration,

But I live quite gloriously, as my lesser’s inspiration.

It seems so wrong for me, to bathe in the aura of nobility,

As lesser men stand in shadows, of my supreme mental agility.

Why God gave you me is not so hard to see,

My unbounded courage enhances my humility.

My detractor’s snarls and glares, my opinions they wish to rend,

But believe me my dear admirers, you will benefit in the end.

If at times, my fans, it appears I never made a mistake,

It is only then, I will admit, my thinking is not opaque.

I am all good, all knowing, all kind, beyond monumental,

What a shame, in the end, that I am a little oddly mental.

Why God gave you me is not so hard to see,

My unbounded courage enhances my humility.

So as you lay awake at night, and ponder my magnificence,

Consider yourself a lucky sole, to have seen my great omnificence.

Spread the word and tell the world you have finally seen the Dark,

The light will fade, the oceans shrink, the sun but a tiny spark.

By then my sweet little dear ones, I will emerge anew,

And with all my brilliance, a gift;  I give myself  to you.

Why God gave you me is not so hard to see,

My unbounded courage enhances my humility.

 THE EGO AND THE ID Copyright W. Tomosky 1/19/2017

Copyright W. Tomosky

FALSE BORDERS (Our own frontiers)


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Originally Posted six years ago on one of my other blogs.


(Multiculturalism, good, bad or indifferent?)

Man invents frontiers and borders for himself. If he would just stop there it would be one thing; but he doesn’t. He attempts to imprint his frontiers and borders on others.

Maybe these cultural differences that we talk about are actually good for us. Men, women, beings; they all must have Something (capital S intended) to believe in. Maybe it isn’t the “Something”, maybe it is the strength of the belief that really matters. The “Something” could just as well be “something.” It does not have to be a deity. Possibly it is a belief that the human race, collectively, will keep adding to instead of subtracting from this earth. When the atheist believes strongly that there is no god, then the strength of his belief is as valid as one who does believe. How many gods can exist? Maybe One. Possibly more. Or none?

My words above intend to raise the following question. Is the strength of a belief as good as the belief itself? If two people have two different belief systems can they live with each other, next to each other, and get along? Or must they imprint their beliefs on the other until they “win?” Is it better for each to hang on tightly to their own beliefs and yet be able to utilize the good they find in the other’s beliefs to enhance their own?

The circular argument that I offer has to do with the small village of Loiza Aldea, Puerto Rico. Prior to defining Loiza Aldea I am required to take you back to Iberia and Africa in previous times.

In Spain the miraculous appearance of St. James the Apostle (Santiago Apostol) is a legend. The embattled Catholic Militias had fought for centuries to displace the Islamic Moors who had captured Andalusia; the southern section of the Iberian Peninsula (el Andalus). This miraculous appearance of Santiago Apostol gave the Christian militias the will to fight. After five hundred years the Moors were driven out.

Subsequently, but definitely not in a just manner, these militias became controllers of the Catholic sheep raising cartel. Their common name was the Mesta. The farmers in el Andalus were severely misused by the cartel. The Mesta was allowed to herd and drive its sheep wherever it wished. Farm crops were overrun and destroyed by the sheep.

Compensation was not required to be paid for the damage. The famished and desperate people migrated from Spain by the thousands; many of them establishing their new homes in Puerto Rico.

In Africa, shortly thereafter, Nigerian Yoruba Tribes were decimated by Islamic slave traders. Some of these slaves were brought to Puerto Rico to work the farms.

Eventually the class gap between rich and poor Spanish immigrants grew wider. Many poor Spanish families squatted on the swampy lagoons of Carolinas east of Old San Juan. This squat village became known as El Fangito (the swamp). Over the years some of these families were joined by Yoruban families. The people of El Fangito were eventually forced to move. Their own government destroyed their homes that rested on stilts above the muddy lagoons. About the same time escaped slaves and freemen had previously migrated to Loiza Aldea where a Native Indian (Taino) compound existed.

The native Taino had, as their queen, “Yuiza.” The Yoruban population had, as their warrior god, “Chango”, who had fought the Islamic slave traders. The Spanish had, as their patron, “Santiago Apostol.”

Each July in Loiza Aldea a ten day festival is held to commemorate the victory of Santiago Apostol. But the borders and frontiers are in voluntary disarray. The local people voluntarily take on the persona of the “Vijigantes”; the Islamic slave traders. These locals dress in colorful and blousy costumes with frightful masks made of coconut shells. Multiple images of Santiago Apostle, Queen Yuiza and warrior Chango share the streets with each other.

St. Peter, patron of the local church, also holds a prominent place. The flag of Loiza Aldea is flown with its multi-cultural simulacrums of the yellow Yoiza River. Meanwhile the bells of the church of St. Peter also appear on the flag.

God and metaphysical thought remain ignorant of borders or cultural frontiers in Loiza Aldea. They remain unaffected by the time or space that the ancestors of the local people occupied. Yet their God (a trinity of Spanish, African and Caribbean cultures) is now one, or if you prefer, One.

Across the small island of Puerto Rico other cultures developed. People believed strongly, no matter whether they belonged in an agricultural area, a devout Catholic area or the new metropolitans that were emerging.

On the opposite corner of the island from Luisa Aldea was a city that had been transplanted in the 1600’s; San German. Originally it was located on the southern coast of Puerto Rico; near the Phosphorescent Bay. After being pillaged several times by pirates the village made a decision. They packed their belongings and several religious artifacts that had been salvaged. With a strong belief in God they hauled their treasures fifteen miles through mountainous jungles to their new San German. The town remains a devout Catholic center.

All of these cultures of Puerto Rico remained strong in their individual beliefs. None of these cultures imposed on each other. Rather, they set an example of what was good in each culture. Those who wished to adopt another culture, partially or whole, did so. Those that did not; did not. Today these cultures live in harmony with each other.

Governmental politics are another matter.

But I must leave politics behind in order to visit a more beautiful place.


I will not bore you with more of my own words. I now allow you to see the history of one of the most beautiful and cross-cultural peoples of the world: PUERTO RICO!

The History of Loiza Aldea

The Festival of Santiago Apostol; 1949

The Festival as it was in 2006

The Culture and Music of the Farmers in Puerto Rico; 1930

Today and Yesterday on the opposite corner of the island; San German



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What hath Zuckerberg wrought?


My opinion

on Facebook

is just one of a quadrillion opinions.


However, my opinion

is as valid as

the other


although a bit stranger.


Facebook is advertised as a social network,

a supposed tool for social intercourse.


We supposedly are acting in a social manner.


Yet there is something missing

that drastically damages

that face-to-face interaction.


It is the actual face of the other.


I call on

the 20th century philosopher

Emmanuelis Levinas

(12 January 1906 – 25 December 1995)






(From Wikipedia)

to assist me

in my need to clarify.


Levinas’ message

“when one person looks upon another’s face

the gazer feels an immediate empathy

for the other.”


That empathy may turn into complete

suppression of self-interest.


The observer does something

completely out of character

and performs a charitable act

that benefits the other.


This is because of the very personal

face-to-face situation.


One of his examples comes from a novel

Levinas read years prior.


The scene depicts a German lady

who immediately hates a Russian soldier

the minute she sees him.


The soldier is removing partially decomposed bodies

of fellow Russian soldiers,

that are the result of the WWII Russian invasion of Germany.


As the German lady, who is in rags,

and has only one loaf of bread to her name,

looks into the Russian’s face

her rage subsides.


She sees him as a human being

who is suffering

in his work

as much as she is suffering from poverty.


This face-to-face encounter

causes a complete turnaround of her rage.


She hands him her only possession,

her loaf of bread.


That is the point that Levinas wishes to make.

Looking at a fellow human being,


is our basic being.


It is the one thing that keeps us alive.


We argue, disagree and go to war.

But when two humans face each other

the hate melts away.


And the following is all I want to say;


There is a problem with Facebook.


We are either going overboard in agreeing with each other,

being politically correct

 – – – – OR – – – –

if we have different points of view

it often degenerates into name calling

or misinterpreted comments.


I am guilty.


I have no solution.


It is the nature of Facebook.


We are immune to the real face-to-face nature that Levinas speaks of.


We may know each other,

we may remember each other from past associations,

yet there is an anonymity

that creeps in and voids the real face to face.


Allow me to voice an opinion,

yes, I have a lot of those.


Since we can do nothing to create

an actual face-to-face while we are on Facebook

let us attempt

to visualize

the other person

and the situation that he or she

may be in.


What hath Zuckerberg wrought?


SHAMLESS; Just shamless – – – if I do say so myself.

Yes, It is time for another shameless self promotion of one of my 18 books(soon to be 19 – – – just wait – – – you’ll see).

This one is the autobiography of a fictional character created by a dead author. If that is not enough I should be quick to add that he is also a plagiarist; not unlike the one who writes this.

The autobiography is guaranteed to contain nonsense; yet be, somewhat entertaining.

Thank you and may God have pity on your soul.

Go ahead, Click on the book cover for a sample reading.

Look inside this book.

The Autobiography of Pierre Menard by [Tomosky, Waldo]


While you are at it you may as well look over the other 17 brilliant publications.  Click on the little cherub below (after you read the blurb inside the box).   I SAID AFTER – – – not before!

As I Wander Introduction 2

©W. Tomosky



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“We stopped looking for monsters under our bed when we realized that they were inside us.”

                                                                                    Charles Darwin


Hello monster; my old friend,

are you with me until the end?

Must I always fret and worry,

that you will exit me in a fury?

Leaving me to deal,

with your deeds, surely unworthy?



Won’t you stay beneath my bed,

so that nothing should I dread?

I know that you are there inside,

I imprisoned you with my pride.

Depart me old friend,

I sometimes feel, you can no longer hide.



If you are really mild and benign,

why under bed are you enshrined?

You claim to be weak and surely mild,

your image is attuned to evil and wild.

There are other beds,

and beings – – – wishing to be defiled.



Why did you choose my bed; old friend?

there are others, more suitable to tend.

I choose not to acknowledge you,

can’t you take suggestions or a clue?

other beds exist,

Your choices are many – – – not few.



I can see their names and faces,

On post office walls and other places.

They beg for your worry and ill credence,

They cherish your sins and malfeasance.

Forsake me, old friend,

Go assist them, make their allegiance.



I treat you poorly, as if you don’t exist,

your illusory presence will not be missed,

Why stay there in the dark and dust?

abandon and dispose of me if you must,

Friends we do not discard,

However, to you I am truly unjust.



Why hang around, under slat and mattress?

I no longer care for you, misguided and hapless.

Can’t you see I no longer want you as a friend?

I have more honorable activities to attend,

Run away, escape now,

Lest I assassinate you, do you comprehend?



If I depart this earth, I take you with me,

it will be the both of us; me and thee.

I hope that you are getting my drift,

this friendship will end; sure and swift.

depart my presence old friend,

leave me alone, we cannot co-exist.



And then my old friend disappeared,

he left not a bit of himself; as I had feared,

his memory can be seen, now and then,

he has taken up with more worthy men,

good riddance I say;

Goodbye old pal, my old evil friend.



I Got The Onics on the Taconic (New York State Route 987G) {an oldie but badie}




Taconic Parkway on a Beautiful Winter Day


It appears quite demonic,

That parkway named Taconic,

Its hills sound so harmonic,

Bear Mountain can be Ionic,

Created by actions tectonic,

Before the dread bubonic,

But don’t get too laconic,

For it is very ironic,

That others are supersonic,

Their fuel – – – gin and tonic,

Driving while catatonic,

Self serving all-hedonic,

Brains very micronic,

Not so much platonic,

Their minds monophonic,

No turn signals telephonic,

Result in a crash, sardonic,

You are no longer pneumonic,

Pain appears to be chronic,

Hospital bills invertedly conic,

Lawyer voices synchronic,

Promises very symphonic,

Approaching diatonic,

Lung becoming bronchonic,

X-rays nicely photonic,

Doctors speaking mnemonic,

You desire weed hydroponic,

To abate muscles isotonic,

Cramping in the first harmonic,

Nurse applying acid propionic,

Keeping your legs fibronic,

Court case becomes ironic,

Defense says “He was Pharonic,”

“Self-imposing and histrionic,”

“Hogging the road Napolionic.”

I lost my suit, quite ironic,

My case being hegemonic,

My bank account now nucleonic,

And my logic all gnomonic.


THE CHATEAUGAY PLATOON post #44 (Franklin Sargent and the Greek Amphitheater)


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 It is always good to set the tone; so if you would please help – – – start the music.

(In a stage act it is good to call on audience participation; not so sure about this in a blog.  Your call.)

The Chateaugay Platoon get together several times a year for a haunt fest.

On nights of the full moon they gather at Sargent’s Amphitheater.



Of course, nothing would be complete without a old yellowing copy of a news story of how Franklin Sargent, after an unrequited love, took his own life.

Poor old Franklin Sargent; he got pushed back to page 4.



The platoon invited Franklin Sargent to meet them at his amphitheater on those nights of the full moon. However, his heart was still sad due to his lost love and the deteriorating Greek Stage. He told Joshua Crimmins that he was more than welcome to perform “Othello” on the stage.

Crimmins was beside himself with joy when he heard the offer.

The local young people often gather there and listen for the screams at midnight – – – mixed together with Crimmins’ recitations. But all they hear are the trees groaning under the strain of Adirondack Winds and the intermittent screams of a bobcat.

And then all is quiet until the next full moon.

Every ALL HALLOWS EVE they gather in formation and march around several different towns. The children can see them – – – however – – – the grownups have become too jaded to recognize the platoon for who they are. 


If you have a chance to go to Chateaugay, Malone, Brushton, Aiden Lair, Tahawus, Chasm or High Falls on the Salmon River or any other of their haunts on ALL HALLOWS EVE then please say hello to the Platoon for me.

Great bunch of fellows; even if they are only there in spirit.



THE CHATEAUGAY PLATOON post #43 (Wanakeena and the Abenaki, Hiram and The Mission)


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The Native American known as Wanakeena was asked to speak about his previous life.


Being a man of few words he spoke softly as he told about the history of his people; The Abenakis.





Hiram Watts had appointed himself to the position of Mystic Sexton at “Mission of the Transfiguration” near Blue Mountain Lake. So, as Sexton, he also had to give a short description of the mission to the tourists.


“What do you tell the tourists?” asked Lieutenant Preserved-Fish MacAdam.


Hiram answered;

“The Church of the Transfiguration is a historic Episcopal church located at Blue Mountain Lake in Hamilton County, New York. It is a small, one story, gable roofed structure with a central belfry at the west end. The building is constructed of barked spruce logs, mitered at the corners, and set upon a high foundation of random fieldstone. The church features Tiffany glass windows and a Meneely bell donated by Mrs. Levi P. Morton wife of future Vice-President under Benjamin Harrison.”

He continued on;

“It was designed by Manley N. Cutter and built by Thomas Wallace.”

church_of_the_transfiguration_blue_mountain_lake_new_york     mission-of-the-transfiguration


Then he continued “It hasn’t changed much.”

“What is a Meneely Bell?” asked the Sargeant.

Hiram had the answer folded up in an old print of “Machine and Builder” magazine which he removed from his jacket.













And with Hiram’s little speech the reunion ended.

But the reunion was not the last time that the Chateaugay Platoon ever got together.


THE CHATEAUGAY PLATOON post #42 (Liebenmeyer Sings and Barclay Mimes)


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And so Karl-Heinz, being asked by his fellow soldiers, belted out a Sturm and Drang for them – – –



Richard Barclay, if you remember correctly, was from a fairly rich family. His father owned coal mines in Pennsylvania. Therefore, he only had to silently think about what he knew.

Since all the souls can read each others minds (yes, it will happen to you also) this is what was transmitted to the other dead souls in the room.



Then the Native American known as Wanakeena was asked to speak about his previous life.