Friday, July 24, 2020

T.Notes#54: Taming the Shrew

When something goes wrong,
My default response is to throw a tantrum,
blame God and make rash decisions.
I am working at it.
I want to be like Obama
Unfrazzled, calculated and smooth.
But my blood pressure is like a reckless danfo driver.

A Nigerian military regiment
invaded the Newyork stock exchange.
They marched to my desk wielding big guns,
gave a smart salute and announced to the surprise of all my collegues,
That my father, the president had sent a chopper to get me home urgently.
Aye, put a respect on my name!
All hail the chief!
Daydreams.

I expect God to be my commando warrior
To keep all these madness far from me
Bless me only with beach holidays and margaritas.
Is that even a biblical doctrine?
Instead it seems like heaven is on a long holiday.
Sending me postcards from the Bahamas
Talking about learning to trust in God
Whilst the world and my mind is gone bonkers.

When i finally became a man
I realised how lonely the masculine experience actually is.
It is not good for man to be alone
In his mind or space.
The problem is, men don't talk.
We work, worry, grunt, drink beer and play with adult toys.
Anything to escape that five minutes of painful introspection.
So we trade precious time for five minutes of wonder.
I think men need God more than we realise.

Do you remember that quiet night,
You noticed the neighbour's curtains slightly open.
Curious, you turned off your own lights,
Peered closer and discovered wonder.
This is how i feel about a good blog.
A gentle unrestrained access into an untamed mind.
I need a good blog
One that does not indulge me.

I love when you surrender your mind to a diary
Like a child discovering watercolor in a kindergarteen art class.
And then you become the audience
of your own wild thoughts.
Like lighting a blunt on a lazy saturday,
Fireflies playing on the radio,
And a local girl weaving your afro into bantu knots.

This post is about learning to find quiet.
There is a charming restaurant in the Philippines
It is called "Van Gogh is bipolar'
It welcomes clients to celebrate their imperfections, embrace their flaws,
And light a path to discovering wholeness.
I still haven't found what i'm looking for.
I'm still searching.
I will be found by You.

These ideas are like tiny birds flutterring above my head.
Ignored till they become like pesky badgering woodpeckers.
The penny finally dropped.
I think too much.
I analyse everything,
I worry excessively.
Someone said I simply need to turn off my brain sometimes.
Be still my soul.
But first, let me worry about what i'd do with the silence.

I spent last night memorising famous shakesphere quotes, listening to @BessObarotimi,
And analysing stock market activity
All so i appear wildly intelligent for a client engagement in the morning.
You have brought me to this place
So i look up to you to sustain me
I trust you to sustain me
You lift my head.
My scraggly bantu braided knotty head.

This post is about writing postcards to Jesus
I have a few concerns.
A widowed mother with a failing health,
Mortgages in an economic recession,
Playing russian roulette with a raging pandemic,
And heavy obligations of career decisions.
It is difficult not to worry.
it is tough trying to be like Obama.

These are my T.Notes.

Wednesday, July 8, 2020

T.Notes#53: Till i see you

My name is T.Notes
I still like good old fashioned
Anonymous blogs
And the quirky people
You meet through them.

I have a reckless obsession
For fine words
Delicately pieced together
To exhibit the wonder of a naked soul.
Can i walk with you.

To those of us who journey
I hope that you find a place of rest
In your wild places.
Away from the unfaithful mob of your own self and life's treachery.
A respite from the tyranny of our wandering minds.
Do you also find beauty in Jeremiah nine?

Sometimes a simple word
Gathers itself gently off the pages of the bible,
Creeps into my soul,
Finds home in an unattended hollow space,
And starts to bud.🌹
Don't leave me.

Some people remind you
In a summery holiday sort of way
That boys still like girls
And girls still fancy boys
In an uncomplicated sort of way
Like velvet chocolates and cocoabutterskin.
This too, is fine.

Somedays there is this deep sense of utter nothingness
It is irrespective of my devotion.
So i steady my heart
Into the refrain of old untiring songs
You are too good to me, Audrey Assad

The control freak in me find it utterly frustrating
That you simply cannot predict life
Some days will knock you off your carefully laid out plans.
In the end we must all bow to acknowledge something...or someone...
Pause.

Mama said good girls don't twerk
And good boys do away with
A pornographic worldview.
Ode to those of us who journey
Breaking sweat and nails to ascent into a dreamy City on a hill

I guess what i'm trying to say is
I'm not sure how you can ache for something
That you don't fully understand
Or hope for a redemption that you cannot see.
But here we are, waiting till i see You.

Wednesday, June 24, 2020

T.Notes#52: Somewhere in between Prose and Subtlety

My most honest prayers
Are not the ones i ramble in desperation.
Instead it is in these carefully crafted words,
Soulful truths
Nested inbetween prose and subtlety
I hope God reads my blog.

I have been trying to organise this page,
This life...
To determine a singular purpose
A contribution of sorts to humanity
What is your blog about? I dunno.
Untidy memoirs of a beautiful mind
From a deeply flawed man
Who could tell.

Once on a lazy breezy wednesday
I vividly remembered being groped as a child
By an older female neighbour
At first it was uncomfortable
That is as far as most men will tell.
I like my toast slightly burnt
With a drizzle of cheese.

I try to refrain from obscenities when i read the bible.
So instead i try to speak in tongues.
Curse words is what happens
After language has failed to articulate the depth of our emotions
The harvest is past,
The summer is ended,
And we are not yet saved.

You were over there,
I was over here.
Beautifully creative minds
betrayed by these bodies.
Unattended desires
Buried beneath white cotton sheets.
Like a fleeting daydream,
We was here.

Somedays I want to take a long break
From myself, and the consequences of this incessantly wondering mind.
Last night i walked with a slouch
Then a barely audible whisper suggested,
Don't you dare give up!
Hold your head up!

I guess what i am trying to say is
I want to pray tonight,
I ought to pray tonight.
But everytime i begin to,
I see myself.
I know myself.
And this is why the gospel is beautiful.

Saturday, May 23, 2020

T.Notes#51: Waiting to exhale

I shared a virtual beer with the boys last night.
We spoke about deep-seated worries and unattended fantasies
Then the ardent atheist amongst us asked if someone would pray.

For sleepless men who stayed up alone,
To keep vigil over a tidy pile of household bills and stress medications,
Whilst glued to watching continued fallouts of a pandemic beyond our control.

Men who'd forgotten how to exhale,
Instead literally holding our breath daily,
Waiting for anything that resembles good news to calm our nerves.

We spoke about sensual distractions whilst waiting for God.
I heard that every man secretly wishes his woman were a little bit sluttier
With wiles to command the attention of gods and kings whenever she rose regally to her knees.

My neighbour will be pregnant soon.
I often wonder if to remind her that the walls are paper thin at night
Or if to give her a thumbs-up for the quality feedback she gives to the good man.

The realities of sex after marriage
Hit most men like a ton of bricks
We eventually all learn the art of subtle negotiation
And how to caress a midnight can of beer.

But shit is fuxkfd up still.
Kay has been a dutiful barber for twenty years
Until his account went into overdraft yesterday
As social distancing rules crumbled his modest empire.

They say God helps those who cannot help themselves.
I never really accepted this.
Afterall our super power lies in fixing things
Until these days of feeling like grounded super heroes
Powerless to affect any of our preferred outcomes.

They say men have been conditioned from childhood to mask our emotions
To live a life of half-truths and deception.
This is manhood
A fine mess of best intentions and depravity
It is complicated.

There once was a King who lived at the edge of madness.
When his demons came to play,
he'd hurriedly call on a young lad to play gentle music to calm his soul.

Last night i dusted off an old album,
Caressed a cold can of beer and said a sincere prayer
To the tune of Fred Hammond.

God is our refuge and strength,
an ever-present help in times of trouble.
This is manhood.
These are my T.Notes.

End

Tuesday, May 12, 2020

T.Notes#50: Knowing

I asked how they met.
She blushed and admitted
that he'd sent her a direct message,
asking the color of her underwear.

My mind is a whirlwind these days.
I am doing everything to distract my compulsive thoughts
Because I know I am not coping.

I know
That i have f***ed this up
So here we are
In this place, waiting for redemption

How do you manage that deep sickening feeling of regretful decisions?

Saturday, March 28, 2020

T.Notes#49: Maria

I once lived with an eccentric old friend
who kept an archive of private diaries for over seventy years.
A reckless collection of trysts, musings and quiet uneventful mondays.

We would often reminisce about skinny dipping in caribbean nude beaches,
Relaxing massages overlooking an indian summer,
And accidentally finding Jesus whilst searching for our own delights.

The last time we spoke, we discussed her financial asssets and private emotions.
She said to me,
When they tell you my time is up,
Don't leave these words unattended.

If you must, then burn the whole thing to the ground
every single word!
I'd rather no audience into my mind
When i am no longer able to defend my best intentions,
lest these pages accurse me into the grave.

I agreed, albeit under the influence of late night prosecco,
and wandering thoughts about
if heaven is only for the simple minded.
Those who believe and persist without question.
Or if there is room for those of us tossed back and forth with storming doubts,

Those who wage daily wars to uphold their own redemption
Living in anxious fear to find out in one eternal moment,
If their unrighteous miniscule faith was enough to bring them home to rest.
Or if their many loose ends shipwrecked faith.

There were days when we tired of waiting for God
So we turned to soulful ballards to attend our discontents
Nights like Lauryn hill, Sade Adu and Jorja Smith.
This too, is fine.

Sometimes the best we can do is sit and repeat the words of a simple song,
Or an easy prayer over and over and over again
Until a random unintended interlude, when it all finally rings true.

By the way my dear friend Maria is well and symptom free,
holed away from covid-19 in a fine retirement home.
Guzzling the occasional jagers,
chatting shit on soulcast
And still checking her blog stats
For that one audience reading from heaven.

These are our T.Notes.

Saturday, March 21, 2020

T.Notes#48: Known

Deep inside every person,
is a private sanctum
where dwells
the mysterious essence
of his being. (Tozer)

Try as we may to bare it all,
To lie naked in oneness
in person or in virtual space

We find still only one
who can enter that deep-in core
to establish residence there.

The biblical scriptures
Call that mysterious human entity
as,
The spirit of man.  (Tozer)

This is my simple untheological attraction to Christianity
Yes, psalm 139 gets me.