Me Tarzan

Okay, so one time (in band camp?) I experienced something beautiful... No bill worries. I mean, EVERYTHING was in order. Heck, if I got up one morning with the random urge for cupcakes... So be it. All was financially sound, money back in the bank et al. ... Walking back from the bakery one morning though, I started feeling off. Something... Was off. Then I realized what it was: I was at peace. I hadn't been at peace for so long that when I found myself IN IT, my mind got worried. What's up with this good thing? ... For a little over a year, I had a plumbing problem; the main valve inside the apartment was leaking. Drip. Drip. Drip. We devised a catchment device to catch all the water but still, we were slaves to it. Sleep was not sound; couldn't go out for any real length of time without worrying about leaking/flooding. Now I found a plumber, but as a freelancer who wasn't working regularly, monies went to other things of note (mortgage etc). Long story short, yest...

In the end, intellect may only take you thus far; a thought that -even for my theist sensibilities - is troubling. But truly, unless you are or embody the attributes of an empath, you may not necessarily understand a person or situation unless you're wearing the other shoe [i.e.: theirs]. Which brings us to this: Two weeks ago, we had my grandmother's funeral. Through the swirling vortex of emotion, I tried to keep my head up and my eyes dry. But as the days drew closer I started to get all the more agitated. That is, until I poured the Rum Punch. Oh glorious rum punch; ye splendid algorithm of alcohol. One night I poured a small amount and drank with one gulp. No ice, no ceremonious concoctions; just a glass and a swig of rum punch. I felt GREAT. Peaceful. Calm. ... I understood right then and there WHY people drink. In that moment, I became the settled nerve at the prescription of Dr. Alcohol... And that's just rum punch. I already subscribe to the belief of hypothesi...

I think an award should be given to people who, though not knowing the what where why or how of [their] life, still get up every morning and trod on. Also, I'd like to be the first recipient. A fabulous secret was revealed to me today: I have no idea how I feel about anything. ... Nope, correction, I know exactly how I feel: aimless. I got off the phone with a friend and businessman who feels excited to wake up every morning and get to work (his work of course; he owns a business). He's excitable. Hearing him speak gets ME excited about HIS plans. I realized however, I do not accurately remember the last time I actively got excited for the morning or anything. Let me stop here and say, it's not like I live in a constant state of limbo and/or eternal despair; truth be told, once I actively pull myself away from bed, I tend to be fine. But of late, I just want to lay in my bed till the world (my world) makes sense. I'm not in the mood to keep writing; I'm not su...

Life is random. Except it is not. It is a finely crafted, beautifully thought out and written plan in the mind and books of Our Creator. Except, i don't know.  I hate that phrase: 'i don't know'. I hate that ambiguity. i hate PROVIDING that ambiguity to others. I'm a theist, a God-boy [picture that as a costume]. More than that, i'm bright. I don't know feels like a cop-out of gargantuan proportions. Not when you use words like gargantuan in your daily speak.  But i don't know. I don't know because maybe life is random. On the surface [see, there's my spirit pushing against the 'i don't knows']. I don't know about true love because i just wanted love. The ability to wrap my arms around someone who was mine, no matter the costs - that is what i know. I don't know the full extent of finding a good place in this universe because most days, i don't know where i stand. I live in the shadow of death; this pondering when/wh...

All my life, my uncle has been around. More so, the last seven or so months [and continuing], when things felt sketchy at best and downright panicky at worst. Yesterday [June 30th, 2014], he called to see if everything was alright in my end of the universe. I told him thank you and he said to me, "just remember me when you get into your kingdom". For those who may not catch the reference, it's the line used by the thief at the right hand of Christ [on the cross]; he turned to Him and said, "Lord, remember me when you enter your Kingdom"; Christ replies "Today you will be with me in Paradise" ... we laughed. Inside Theist joke. But admittedly, the line hit me. In my stomach. I went home and wrote this in the everlasting Nokia, 'CHANGE TRACY FOR THE BETTER! There are people's lives depending on you to change!'. And I knew this already it's just... new. And here's the truth of the matter: Success isn't just for you/your be...

because my brain does not stop for football, here i am, asking a question that NO DOUBT may go relatively unanswered. sometimes i wonder about the earth dwellers but still, here i am; still, here we are. i'll make it brief: Dear Religion: Is every word of your various texts, full of and/or subject to subtext or is a word simply a word with nothing or no real meaning behind it? As a Theist - more so, as a Theist Poet - sometimes i think about concepts and thought processes; words behind words. And let's face it, a sermon would not be a sermon if one didn't read and extrapolate a deep [inspired?] meaning from the text. But sometimes, is a word not.... i don't know... JUST a word. A footnote for historical reference rather than spiritual? Here's one: Isaiah Chapter Six begins with, "In the year that King Uzziah died, I saw the Lord..."; it then goes into a beauuuutiful vision the prophet had of The Lord and the Seraphs and such. Life changing i...

the Coach i rode on [see what i did there] arrived in Port of Spain just about the time that the funeral procession of the late great Arthur Napoleon Raymond Robinson was passing by. i stopped, waited and watched as the protective arms went before a fallen General.  i took off my fedora. stood in a quashie military stance [thank you Crusaders' training] and even said a small, tiny prayer for the country. meanwhile Trinidad was talking. talking about some asinine thing. now i don't know for sure HOW asinine it was but the prevailing thought in my head was - "could we not give the man 75 seconds of silence to observe his passing?" apparently we could not. now i live in a country that doesn't know the meaning of honour or respect; that is, unless they are liked/voted for. actually, not even that. were THAT true, we wouldn't be throwing souse bones in woodford square when the anthem or our favourite political person spoke. it's just hilarious to me th...