JACKSONITE 💙🖤 Maestro ✍️

 

Maestro
025 Jacksonite; D.O.G, MACSA 2023/2024 
@real_maestro (Instagram)

THOUGHTS OF A MAESTRO
(P.S. Not A Diary) 😌

Page 1. Define purpose.
An object to be reached? A target or goal? The reason for existence?
These answers, questions in themselves, set my mind pacing. They launch me on a mission of self discovery. They seethe my adrenaline, ready for a kill. My prey is my goal, my target, my reason for existence... And I am the predator.
I am not a lion though. No. My mane is fiercer. My claws dig deeper. My eyes pierce the toughest hide. I am no feline. I am the pride of the Father. I am a man of honour. I am a master of my art. I am a poet.
I am... Maestro.

Page 2. "What hast thou done on Earth?"
My answer to this question when I was much younger was, "Nothing." Then I became the number one student in my elementary school in Lagos. It was a wonderful feeling when the peers that had looked down on me suddenly needed my consent and heeded my every command. It wasn't pride or a feeling of lordship. It was evidence, that I deserved to be respected and acknowledged too.
Why stop at one when there's two? Hence, my ambition to carve my initials on the Jacksonite comrade tree. Although I was unopposed, I wasn't going to just prance in and take my medal. I was going to earn it. I believe I did that with my manifesto. Kaycee and the others said I was superb. A.J slapped my back and shook my hand for tackling his question excellently. MACSA made me their choice...
Thank you, MACSA. Thank you for entrusting me with your whistle. I will serve with honour and vigour. I will earn my medal.

Page 3. "Ignoramuses."
That was the word Denzel breathed after our class had just been bullied by our oppressive seniors years ago. I had caught it and darted a glance at him. He had returned it and we have been friends ever since.
We shared many things in common, besides our hatred for the ignoramuses. Denzel, he had a frame of reference that matched mine. We could talk on and on about concepts, formulate our own theories and differ over controversies.
It was surprising how much was inside that shy good-looking young man; the man that would go out of his way just to avoid a conversation with people, the guy girls couldn't stop giggling about. There was a fire of intelligence, genius and ambition. There was a personality worth befriending. There was a man I called my best mate.

Page 4. An idea for a poem sparked in me today. I don't have a title for it yet though. Here's the first stanza.

Young me always gave excuses
For all shortcomings
For all ~hits~ and misses
Funny how they said life was without creases
(The pen of a Maestro)

It's good. I'll wait for the next stanza to spark by.

Page 5. Today, introvert me told extrovert me to take a break, so I did.
It was video games galore! My brother was away at school so I had the console all to myself. I was at it for hours. My eyes hurt and my thumbs feel jerky. Video games are the life, man!
I'll end the day with a most precedented match at 8. I bet Denzel that Arsenal is going to gun down the Devils. Luck, don't fail me now.

Page 6. "The ship cracks under the waves; the stowaway must abandon ship."
Denzel dropped by and told me about his latest girlfriend. I listened and told him about how mine got prettier everyday.
"You guys are still together?" he asked with his smirk.
"You can't relate. You change girls like dirty dishes."
He smiled and shrugged, "I don't exactly beckon them."
"Sure, Apollo," I teased and for the umpteenth time, tackled him in a game of Mortal Kombat.
It was our last time hanging out at home. Next time would be in school but I reckon we'd have our hands full. He marked the day in my memory by telling me his girl's perspective of the legendary Nietzsche. It intrigued me, how intelligently her mind had worked and how lucky Denzel was, until he met another bird... Or another bird met him.
I didn't envy him. I admired him in many things but this time, my mind was stuck on one being. My eyes were blind to all but one... A lady whose name is too precious to be written in this book.

Page 7. Back in the den.
That's enough to cast shadows and dark clouds but my head is full of sunshine, flowers and the other vanities women fuss over.
Today, I met her, after a dreary holiday. She was like the Messiah, and I was poor Bartimaeus asking that I may lose my sight of all but her. I got the chance to find out why I fell for her the first time, and why I'm doomed to always do so. That ditch won't just get out of my way.
I took her in; natural, gorgeous and reserved. Why, she would hardly pluck a flower for fear of hurting it. If you were patient to dig deeper, you would find a soul full of life and wit. Her mind was a work of perfection. Her words were always charming. Her opinion though; we never seemed to agree about anything. We had nothing in common besides we were students and that we had feelings for each other. The latter might be an assumption but my predictions are always right. Ask Denzel.
Come to think of it, it is odd how two contrasting characters can be so closely knit. Yin and yang, fire and water, sound and silence... Well, that's just how I like it. The contrast always incites this... Shall I call it guilty pleasure?
Anyway, night creeps in and my pillow is crusted with snippets of her sophisticated voice.
My mind is full of her. I'll siphon my thoughts with a poem. A poem of her.

Page 8. Just thinking. Nothing hits better than the phrase, cancelled classes. I didn't waste the opportunity. I studied how energized and great my pals looked. Nothing much has changed anyway, just the building and the level.
Denzel is going to have his ear full with my account of recent. For starters, being a MACSA exco can be interesting. You get to work with and for a ton of characters. Chyly (she said it's pronounced Kiley) takes first place as most intriguing. It's part of my responsibilities familiarizing with my Jacksonite comrades alright, but she doesn't seem contented with being just familiar. She's literally on my dm every evening. I don't mind much. I love an intelligent conversation any day, anytime and I can have that with Chyly.
Chyly has just the vibes I love to feel. She's goal oriented and charismatic for a fresher. I just hope it's not what I'm thinking. I will not tolerate any interference with my devotion to my lady.

Page 9. I've got two more stanzas for my poem.

I've come to realise that not even a rose is a bed of roses
Perhaps its thorns are void of harm
As a saint, ~reality~ poses
As a platform for charm

I was friends with the man in the woods
My subconscious if you'd like
Almost always alters my mood
So I sprinkled pixie dust and took a hike

Speaking of hike, guess who's organizing MACSA's workout 2.0. It's going to be another avenue for camaraderie and a milestone in my political career. God come through for me.

Page 10. Word got out that I had excelled greatly in my one month internship at FMA and my idea had been uploaded on NNPC's website.
Just great. I'm not ashamed of my achievement. Neither am I too humble minded to assert (brag if you want) my achievement. It's something I'm proud of. It was a part of my legacy.
The reason for my distress is the attention it's getting me. Now, I love to encourage starters to get a foothold of their new environment but when these starters are female freshers who want my affection more than my admonition, that's a problem. I got like a hundred different admiring and congratulatory texts. They kept me from conversing with my lady as freely as I would have loved to.
Three of them ambushed me today in the office. They were lovely and interesting. Good thing their attire turned me off. To me, there's nothing worse than a lady who enunciates her beauty by exposing herself. Cheapen is the word I like to use. You're beautiful inside out! Don't rely on your assets to appreciate your body. Same goes for the male folk. Dress decently! A well brewed bowl of soup doesn't beg to be eaten.
Back to the girls. Their fashion plus a cussword here and there soon made me bored of them. I do have one thing to be grateful to them for; they made me love my lady even more.

Page 11. Today, Kaycee asked me a random question.
"What's the most memorable day of your life?"
I didn't think long before I said, "October 21, 2018." It was the day I gave my life to Christ. The day I became a Christian not by birth or upbringing but by choice. I'm not just a Christian. I'm a proud Christian. I love God. I put Him first in everything. I try my best to serve Him.
It's a hard truth; we'll all be alone in the end. So why leave that one person who is there for us till the end of time?

Page 12. I met the famous Chyly today. She was cool. Lovely features and a beautiful self esteem. She was nice to talk with offline and worth honouring with a poem.
My opinion depreciated when she tried to sound all gen z and opened her mouth to cuss. No offense but as a beautiful woman, why would you open your beautiful mouth and spit ugly words that baffle even the evil spirits?
Chyly was also a self pronounced feminist who didn't believe in men opening women's car doors and helping them with their coats.
My lady will oppose, Denzel as well but my principle stands. There are roles you must play as a lady. Nothing irks me more than ladies who don't know that they are ladies. I still believe in being the perfect gentleman, so you be the perfect lady. I understand and support the feminist agenda that encourages women to empower themselves but there are still lines that mustn't be crossed.
So to the womenfolk, I'd just like to say, don't be the monster you're trying to fight. The world has been cruel to you, no doubt, but you let the world win by turning cruel yourselves.
I wonder if Denzel can counter that point. And my lady... It'd be nice to hear her musical voice on this matter.

Page 13. I finally got the last stanza for my poem. Here goes...

Why can't we just express liberality
Sing songs, sip a little tea
So this is my ultimatum to reality
Get in check or wallow in catastrophe.

And for a name, how about My Ultimatum to Reality?

Page 14. (For me and my lady alone. Denzel must never find this writing.)
Today, I teased my lady into breaking the tense thread between us and come clean about the status of our relationship.
One-sided?
Nah, she said with a shy dodge of my gaze.
Then you love me, I probed further.
I don't even know you that well, was her snappy reply.
I kept on. I told her my name. I said I loved football and video games. I'm a poet. I'm interesting to talk to and if they wrote a book about my life, it would not be boring one bit.
I'm charismatic, not arrogant. I'm a goal oriented person too. I set my sight early. I know what I want and take what I want. I feel the rush of adrenaline and I do what my mind dictates. I can be shy or confident, introverted or extroverted. Above all, I'm a Christian.
She seemed flustered by my words. It made her look like a blushing flower. She rolled her eyes eventually so I used my trump card.
I have a habit, I said, of digging deep into a person's personality. I like to know their values and beliefs. I also love it when a friend confides in me. I love being a shoulder to cry on. That was what drew me to you that first day. You wet my shoulder with your tears and I knew I wanted you to always do that everytime you had a reason to cry.

I wanted to say more, even write a poem but she transcends the laws of poetry, and verses with rhymes would be too rigid. I simply looked at her and watched the smile creep up her cheeks and caress her face. That smile... It said it all.

Page 15. Poem to Her.

*Read Circumspectly*

*Raindrops*

As tender as the raindrops on my skin
So are your kind words to my heart
Lord knows my heart's desire knows no sin
Someone convince me she's not a work of art

*Peace Kiss*

Mine depth knows figurative kisses
And literal conversational tension
Everyday, I think about making her my Mrs
But what Herculean task to pop the question 😅

*Flowers concept*

Mid summer's breeze requires your tutelage for operation
The palm of your hands inspires the Lilies
Dandelions ask for your permission and direction
I guess what I'm trying to say is, *I NOTICE YOU PRIMLY*

*From the pen of a Maestro*