Last night we hung up symbolic blue baubles
And spoke about growing pains and midlife crisis
Wondering if Jesus fancied cuban cigars and whiskey.
We are the lost ones still vibing to Biggie Smalls and Tupac,
Still learning to walk in smart leather shoes and a niggar bounce
Still defiant to foreign lands that never welcomed us.
Go hard or go home,
Is what i mouth to myself every morning.
But these days, after ten years of battling institutional bias,
hauling generators is starting to seem like a harmless alternative.
I used to run helter skelter when my loneliness arrives
Now i am learning to just sit in it and wait.
When a situation sucks
Embrace the suck or go home.
When it comes to the end
May your armour be battered and body bruised
But may you still be fighting valiantly for good, faith and hope.
For that is where your heart lies.
The sayings of Agur son of Jakeh contain this message.
I am weary, O God; I am weary and worn out
I am too stupid to be human, and I lack common sense.
I have not mastered human wisdom nor do I know the Holy One.
These are my T.Notes
Please mind the gap.
Wednesday, December 18, 2019
Sunday, October 6, 2019
T.Notes #45: Alice in Wanderland
My goals may be like a rabid rabbit
But i am like a cheetah on steroids
I will get to you eventually no matter what.
My sin may hound me daily without mercy
Relentless like an overzealous tax man.
But there is a saviour on this side of eternity.
Last night we ventured like Alice
Down the labyrinths of a complex beautiful mind
You shone your torch, touched a nerve and spoke passionately about new habits.
But i am like a cheetah on steroids
I will get to you eventually no matter what.
My sin may hound me daily without mercy
Relentless like an overzealous tax man.
But there is a saviour on this side of eternity.
Last night we ventured like Alice
Down the labyrinths of a complex beautiful mind
You shone your torch, touched a nerve and spoke passionately about new habits.
Thursday, September 19, 2019
T.Notes #44: Faulty Towers
Last night we watched a Cathedral suddenly implode into rubble.
They said she had survived the wars and natural disasters,
But something dangerously subtle had been occurring within her walls.
It reminded me of gentlemen who carried on whilst their lives were falling apart from the inside out.
Till they felt the tremors,
And the fault lines from our many battles terrified our hearts.
We gathered around the rubble to share stories of war and wanderings.
About men who ventured in search of the gap between expectation and reality,
And a God whom we heard could mend the broken.
These are our T.Notes.
Please mind the gap!
They said she had survived the wars and natural disasters,
But something dangerously subtle had been occurring within her walls.
It reminded me of gentlemen who carried on whilst their lives were falling apart from the inside out.
Till they felt the tremors,
And the fault lines from our many battles terrified our hearts.
We gathered around the rubble to share stories of war and wanderings.
About men who ventured in search of the gap between expectation and reality,
And a God whom we heard could mend the broken.
These are our T.Notes.
Please mind the gap!
Wednesday, August 14, 2019
T.Notes #43: Lost in Paris
They told us the house was on fire
So we brought in gasoline, lit some cigars,
And sat down to watch the whole thing burn to the ground.
We spoke about mum.
About magic nights sharing a bottle of bubbly,
Whilst tipsy teenage feet danced away to 80's reggae music,
Talking about love, and true disciplines of a good man.
Mum used to say, beware of the soft spoken intelligent man.
She would murmur to father whilst eyeing me and stirring a steaming pot of concoction,
'Keep an eye on that one'.
Bless her, she was right - sometimes.
She used to tell me to be wary of strange affections,
The girls who stoke your desires and damn your devotion.
But instead we let our hearts run wild, savage.
Till they flowed into a hooker's reckless embrace.
She said, from the begining of the world
To the end of days,
Beautiful women will walk the face of the earth.
May they ever be to us -
Nothing more than a passing distraction.
We talked about this new brave world
Where the voices of imperfect men are silenced, me too.
And moral codes are exhalted, without re-education.
How did the leopard changed its spots,
Mum's favourite fòlklore.
The one about Fathers wandering aimlessly trying hide their secrets and find their feet -
With sincere yet uncharmed cluelessness.
Mum was no saint either - god forbid no.
There was no end to the contradictions in her convictions.
Like the psalms she read to us at bedtime,
Whilst her staunch African beliefs dogged her every decision like a talisma.
My therapist admitted that i am a product of dire dysfunction.
Yet thriving beyond every possible imagination.
I agreed - for me and many many others.
God bless the untiring hustle of the Nigerian child.
Last night we waited for the midnight train to Paris,
We watched the girls stroll by in bouncy summer skirts,
And the boys who stumbled over themselves trying to catch a glimpse of heaven.
But God was healing our minds....
So we brought in gasoline, lit some cigars,
And sat down to watch the whole thing burn to the ground.
We spoke about mum.
About magic nights sharing a bottle of bubbly,
Whilst tipsy teenage feet danced away to 80's reggae music,
Talking about love, and true disciplines of a good man.
Mum used to say, beware of the soft spoken intelligent man.
She would murmur to father whilst eyeing me and stirring a steaming pot of concoction,
'Keep an eye on that one'.
Bless her, she was right - sometimes.
She used to tell me to be wary of strange affections,
The girls who stoke your desires and damn your devotion.
But instead we let our hearts run wild, savage.
Till they flowed into a hooker's reckless embrace.
She said, from the begining of the world
To the end of days,
Beautiful women will walk the face of the earth.
May they ever be to us -
Nothing more than a passing distraction.
We talked about this new brave world
Where the voices of imperfect men are silenced, me too.
And moral codes are exhalted, without re-education.
How did the leopard changed its spots,
Mum's favourite fòlklore.
The one about Fathers wandering aimlessly trying hide their secrets and find their feet -
With sincere yet uncharmed cluelessness.
Mum was no saint either - god forbid no.
There was no end to the contradictions in her convictions.
Like the psalms she read to us at bedtime,
Whilst her staunch African beliefs dogged her every decision like a talisma.
My therapist admitted that i am a product of dire dysfunction.
Yet thriving beyond every possible imagination.
I agreed - for me and many many others.
God bless the untiring hustle of the Nigerian child.
Last night we waited for the midnight train to Paris,
We watched the girls stroll by in bouncy summer skirts,
And the boys who stumbled over themselves trying to catch a glimpse of heaven.
But God was healing our minds....
Tuesday, July 30, 2019
T.Notes#42: Ode to a rise
Tomorrow we rise!
To take the front reins of the European Banks.
We grab a fistful of balls and dare to ride this new challenge!
Bouyed by the same rugged determination, a tactical calculation and a knapsack full of providence.
You said the whole thing is sheer madness - I know.
But glory never came to those who did not dare.
So heaven help us, this cannot fail.
F^%k it, this WILL NOT FAIL.
To take the front reins of the European Banks.
We grab a fistful of balls and dare to ride this new challenge!
Bouyed by the same rugged determination, a tactical calculation and a knapsack full of providence.
You said the whole thing is sheer madness - I know.
But glory never came to those who did not dare.
So heaven help us, this cannot fail.
F^%k it, this WILL NOT FAIL.
Saturday, July 6, 2019
T.Notes#41: Watershed by the Beautiful Blue Danube
Last night our feet dangled over the blue Danube and we were honest men.
We spoke about loosing a grip on life and how adulting is hard.
We made paper boats out of hundred dollar bills,
Floated them away into hidden waters,
and wondered if God was mildly interested in the affairs of men.
If he could really see through our facades,
the misty nights of muffled secrets,
and the unhelpful doxologies of the new churches -
The ones who told us to ignore our demons and sing a new song of grace.
We wondered what it'll take for mortal men to forgive God.
If it was entirely inconceivable waiting for him to tender his own side of apologies,
Or if our disasters were worthy penalties for our own depravities.
I worry for my dear old friend Tobi and asked however i could support.
He returned a quiet smile and asked me to write him a blog post,
About a boy who found himself in the year that his dad died.
Keep it short, honest and sweet.
Talk about Jesus, Loyle Carner, Loose Ends, Self-seeking piety,
And life striken reflections that spoke back to us from a beautiful eastern river...
And don't try to find any conclusion.
So this is it old friend -
Our watershed moments by the Beautiful Blue Danube.
This one is about finding our ways back to a new normal.
"I write because i have secrets no one else knows" - Tony Jordan.
We spoke about loosing a grip on life and how adulting is hard.
We made paper boats out of hundred dollar bills,
Floated them away into hidden waters,
and wondered if God was mildly interested in the affairs of men.
If he could really see through our facades,
the misty nights of muffled secrets,
and the unhelpful doxologies of the new churches -
The ones who told us to ignore our demons and sing a new song of grace.
We wondered what it'll take for mortal men to forgive God.
If it was entirely inconceivable waiting for him to tender his own side of apologies,
Or if our disasters were worthy penalties for our own depravities.
I worry for my dear old friend Tobi and asked however i could support.
He returned a quiet smile and asked me to write him a blog post,
About a boy who found himself in the year that his dad died.
Keep it short, honest and sweet.
Talk about Jesus, Loyle Carner, Loose Ends, Self-seeking piety,
And life striken reflections that spoke back to us from a beautiful eastern river...
And don't try to find any conclusion.
So this is it old friend -
Our watershed moments by the Beautiful Blue Danube.
This one is about finding our ways back to a new normal.
"I write because i have secrets no one else knows" - Tony Jordan.
Thursday, February 14, 2019
T.Notes#40: Lilac Sheets
I woke up feeling overwhelmed by life this morning.
The routines and the unending tide of shi&%y happenings,
With only brief respites in-between.
I attempted to make a nice list of my life motivations -
You know, the things that keep me pressing on.
My raison d'etre.
Pay the bills, Support the family, Save more money and Take good holidays.
It turned out mundane and mildly depressing,
So I turned to the less tangible motivations.
Faith, Hope and Love.
Faith, Hope and Love
It really is for those three that i let go of my cozy duvet every morning
And take my place in this madness.
I thought about faith this morning.
About how a good faith has to be more pleasurable
than that toe-curling kind of sex.
I want a good faith.
I'm not talking about that
Ticket to heaven,
Else 'thou hath damned' type of faith
A good escort can easily arrange those.
I am also not talking about the happy clappy motivational sorts
I'd rather have a good book and a long holiday instead.
But there is a type of faith that knows the depths of me
And recognizes my soul amidst a thousand.
It is that type of faith that stirs my affection.
What gets you out of bed in the mornings?
What fuels your hustle?
The routines and the unending tide of shi&%y happenings,
With only brief respites in-between.
I attempted to make a nice list of my life motivations -
You know, the things that keep me pressing on.
My raison d'etre.
Pay the bills, Support the family, Save more money and Take good holidays.
It turned out mundane and mildly depressing,
So I turned to the less tangible motivations.
Faith, Hope and Love.
Faith, Hope and Love
It really is for those three that i let go of my cozy duvet every morning
And take my place in this madness.
I thought about faith this morning.
About how a good faith has to be more pleasurable
than that toe-curling kind of sex.
I want a good faith.
I'm not talking about that
Ticket to heaven,
Else 'thou hath damned' type of faith
A good escort can easily arrange those.
I am also not talking about the happy clappy motivational sorts
I'd rather have a good book and a long holiday instead.
But there is a type of faith that knows the depths of me
And recognizes my soul amidst a thousand.
It is that type of faith that stirs my affection.
What gets you out of bed in the mornings?
What fuels your hustle?
Thursday, February 7, 2019
T.Notes#39: Dia Fada
I cannot pull any Shaku dance moves to save my life,
But BasketMouth's new song has been doing all sorts of magic to my feet lately.
There is something about the catchy Afro beats and defiant poker faces,
which speak deeply to my internal struggles of blackness.
Excuse my African.
Without sugar coating, I do believe that being a black person is tough.
Irrespective of descent, there is a depth of struggles that we don't talk about and can't even begin to understand.
Sometimes i wonder that if i were given the choice and insight,
Would i voluntarily ever return as a black man?
I posed the question to my Irish friend recently.
A simple question that is devoid of political correctness,
But the answer often lays bare the truth about blackness.
He thought long and hard and admitted that it is complicated.
Living and working outside of Homeland has taught me to deeply understand the histories and depths of being a so-called "black man".
I used to disregard these feelings and try to fit-in,
Afterall, "(mental) slavery is a choice".
I wonder if someday we can talk honestly about necessary blackness.
About unsolicited weights of responsibility,
Unending battles to stay alive,
And this constant need to validate our existence.
I'm not supposed to speak about these things
I am afterall privileged,
Far from the maddening crowd,
And somewhere in that hazy dual nationality state with no real entitlement to call anywhere home.
But Blackness is rising
And it is beautiful to see.
This new audacity and unapologetic pride of kids owning their origin to show off street dance moves in Times Square.
I may not be able to pull any shaku moves to save my own life,
But today i stepped into my predominantly white board meeting with a new sense of unrepentant blackness,
humming BasketMouth's beats
And mouthing 'Dia Fada' as i owned my own space.
But BasketMouth's new song has been doing all sorts of magic to my feet lately.
There is something about the catchy Afro beats and defiant poker faces,
which speak deeply to my internal struggles of blackness.
Excuse my African.
Without sugar coating, I do believe that being a black person is tough.
Irrespective of descent, there is a depth of struggles that we don't talk about and can't even begin to understand.
Sometimes i wonder that if i were given the choice and insight,
Would i voluntarily ever return as a black man?
I posed the question to my Irish friend recently.
A simple question that is devoid of political correctness,
But the answer often lays bare the truth about blackness.
He thought long and hard and admitted that it is complicated.
Living and working outside of Homeland has taught me to deeply understand the histories and depths of being a so-called "black man".
I used to disregard these feelings and try to fit-in,
Afterall, "(mental) slavery is a choice".
I wonder if someday we can talk honestly about necessary blackness.
About unsolicited weights of responsibility,
Unending battles to stay alive,
And this constant need to validate our existence.
I'm not supposed to speak about these things
I am afterall privileged,
Far from the maddening crowd,
And somewhere in that hazy dual nationality state with no real entitlement to call anywhere home.
But Blackness is rising
And it is beautiful to see.
This new audacity and unapologetic pride of kids owning their origin to show off street dance moves in Times Square.
I may not be able to pull any shaku moves to save my own life,
But today i stepped into my predominantly white board meeting with a new sense of unrepentant blackness,
humming BasketMouth's beats
And mouthing 'Dia Fada' as i owned my own space.
Sunday, February 3, 2019
T.Notes#38: Puddles
Then there were those days,
When we stood at the very edge of a tsuanami of our desires,
Daring it to overwhelm us.
Yet all it turned out to be was a mere puddle.
God bless our foolish souls.
Do you remember when i liked you,
And i gave you the license to abuse it,
To be used by you.
God bless your foolish soul.
This is a T.Note
When we stood at the very edge of a tsuanami of our desires,
Daring it to overwhelm us.
Yet all it turned out to be was a mere puddle.
God bless our foolish souls.
Do you remember when i liked you,
And i gave you the license to abuse it,
To be used by you.
God bless your foolish soul.
This is a T.Note
Saturday, February 2, 2019
T.Notes#37: Ode to Travelers
emerging from the ashes of our crisis
like a bad mutha (shut your mouth) phoenix.
This year is about journeying forward
With a clear understanding of decided paths,
and all that is required to stay the track.
This post is a reminder about decisions and destinations.
What decisions have you made?
And what do you need to be doing right now to stay on track?
Here is to finding our ways home and enjoying the journey.
Remember to travel light.
This is a T.Note
xoxo
Photo by me
Saturday, January 26, 2019
T.Notes#36: About exotic heavens and red hot thongs
And people found solace in eternities of sordid affairs
where spouses had been conveniently raptured away to heaven.
I found both situations troubling
One more more disturbing than the other
When you read faithfully inbetween the lines.
I grew up listening to such stories about the world ending.
So much so that i think i was bullied into becoming a Christian with these scare tactics.
It's one of the reasons why i had to dismantle and deconstruct the intents of my Christain faith.
But nobody thinks about such things these days.
Infact you're more likely to believe in China's secret arsenal of supersonic ninja monkeys,
than rationally believe in God.
Plus to be fair, we have Trump, Brexit, Russia, and the Nigerian elections to worry about.
So i woke up this morning with images of crazy housewives chasing sober men with hot red thongs,
People floating away into exotic heavens,
And the devil calling out my name with a naughty smirk.
I concluded that i need to watch less netflix into the night,
Said a prayer to start my day and reached out for a morning bowl of Cheerios.
This is a T.Notes on Faith.
Picture: @frankiefoto
Friday, January 25, 2019
T.Notes#36: Tips for living and working abroad
Every now and then i'll try to share tips for skilled professionals who are interested in living and working abroad.
I truly believe the world is much too beautiful to stay grounded!
So if you are able to, Travel, See the world and Live abroad whilst you are young.
For starters, here are some of the common and well worn paths to moving abroad.
Tag someone who needs to know.
Tips
1. Get an Educational degree abroad - and follow the routes to residency.
2. Apply directly into a job that sponsors your immigration. Example, Doctors and medical staff are in high demand in the U.K.
3. Join the Army, stay alive and follow the route to citizenship.
4. Apply into direct immigration schemes, such as Canada
5. Marry a citizen and naturalise. I don't recommend this one, so all i will say is - stay clear of fraud!
I have simplified each point for brevity but happy to provide free information from my own experiences.
Cheers to the Friday!
.
This is a T.Notes on Career and Travel
Photo: @simonmigaj
T.Notes#35: Anti-Social
I never really liked social media
Because tbh i don't like most people.
I really only like a certain type of people.
But i'm told that i have to say and do things,
So that a lot of people like me and follow me.
Follow me to where exactly?
I do find it a bit absurd,
But i need to figure that one out.
I just wanted to blog again really.
Jazz recently said that,
The degree to which my identity is located within my ministry is the degree to which i may have missed the plot and my life is off course.
I like Jazz. And i think i like you!
Because if you liked and followed me,
then we chances are we are a perfect match!
So thank you.
This post briefly muses about a culture and it's expectation of platform and profile.
Because tbh i don't like most people.
I really only like a certain type of people.
But i'm told that i have to say and do things,
So that a lot of people like me and follow me.
Follow me to where exactly?
I do find it a bit absurd,
But i need to figure that one out.
I just wanted to blog again really.
Jazz recently said that,
The degree to which my identity is located within my ministry is the degree to which i may have missed the plot and my life is off course.
I like Jazz. And i think i like you!
Because if you liked and followed me,
then we chances are we are a perfect match!
So thank you.
This post briefly muses about a culture and it's expectation of platform and profile.
Wednesday, January 23, 2019
T.Notes#34: Fall
The last time i laid on a surgeon's table,
The nurse suggested i stay awake this time.
I remember feeling cold and lifeless as my mind drifted.
I thought about how life is similar to playing a cruel game of Russian Roulette.
And about how Bambi had probably ruinned my chances of heaven or eternal paradises.
To each his own Archille's heel,
For some, it is in indulging the forbidden.
Just as the night before, we'd stood face-to-face, stark naked - body, spirit and soul.
"What is your weakness?", She had whispered.
Her brazenness reminded me of Bible stories,
Of strong men - conquered and reduced to play things.
Yet i was foolishly honest in my response.
I want everything - all that i cannot have and then some.
Bambi had become the pursuit which I had placed above everything else.
My satisfaction, is my god - i know.
The Igbo people say desire is the first child of Satan.
So as she smiled, leaned in close and asked me to kneel,
I concluded that i was going to hell.
Daddy used to say that some life mistakes are too costly to make -
That it is better to learn from the folly of the simple.
But i was always the curious kid who stared out the window at midnight....
I guess what i'm trying to say is,
The last time i laid on a surgeon's table,
I thought about the brevity of life, about second chances and about an old prayer:
Teach us to realize the brevity of life, so that we may grow in wisdom.
This note is about self awareness.
Who, or What, makes you fall to pieces?
These are my T.Notes.
Picture: Flavio Gasperini
Monday, January 21, 2019
T.Notes#33: You don't (even) know my name
The thing is...
I'm not sure how to say this,
Without coming off like i'm trying to chat you up....
Photo by Charles Koh
Saturday, January 19, 2019
T.Notes#31: About Sunday Contradictions
Whilst i embrace the Christian faith,
There are two areas where i intensely struggle.
One is the expectation of a deeply flawed man to live out a worthy cause.
The second is the age old dilemma - how does a good God permit such evil.
I have grappled and studied wide these two contradictations,
And also lived inside their deep trenches -
So i know that it really is not that simple.
I am aware of most well intended responses
And how none of them have yet to quiet my restless angst.
This note acknowledges a walk of faith, or to be precise - a slow limp, for those of us who dared to tell the truth.
And whilst i look forward to a different conclusion, these three things still honestly remain:
A broken halleluyah, a fragile amen and a different type of faith.....
Faith nonetheless.
There are two areas where i intensely struggle.
One is the expectation of a deeply flawed man to live out a worthy cause.
The second is the age old dilemma - how does a good God permit such evil.
I have grappled and studied wide these two contradictations,
And also lived inside their deep trenches -
So i know that it really is not that simple.
I am aware of most well intended responses
And how none of them have yet to quiet my restless angst.
This note acknowledges a walk of faith, or to be precise - a slow limp, for those of us who dared to tell the truth.
And whilst i look forward to a different conclusion, these three things still honestly remain:
A broken halleluyah, a fragile amen and a different type of faith.....
Faith nonetheless.
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