The Power Of Defeat

Defeat. Smack! Right in your face. You did not see that coming.

You weren’t walking. You were gliding, baby you were running.

You were sailing real smoothly, everything was glorious.

You very gait and presence seemed to scream: VICTORIOUS! 

Everyone was singing ‘praise be to you’, you were perfection personified.

Now you’re just there to be vilified. They taunt, “You must have been terrified!”

Before every challenge you seemed unbeatable, untameable, invincible.

But that’s all faded away. Your defence is in shambles, it’s so ‘brittle’.

They looked to you to break all the records, you were the headline of all their papers.

Today… today you are used as toilet paper.

 

You were the nailed on winner until…

 

Controversy strikes! What’s this? A rustle in your feathers?

Your superstar team suddenly looks under the weather.

Hadn’t you won before you stepped on the pitch?

You try sew a smile on your face with needle and stitch.

Time goes by. You’ve got nothing in your hands but vanity.

Vaporous dreams vanish before your eyes so you spew endless profanity.

 

Time’s up!

 

Cue the time to taunt you… oh and they do! They laugh in your face.

“Hahahahaha! You a bloody disgrace!”

A spark ignites within your weary heart.

“You thought you were all that! You really aren’t…”

What stings more than loss is the vitriol that comes with it.

An intense smouldering burns deep within. You can barely bear it.

All that potential and you buried it – you’re worth absolutely nothing.

You came back empty-handed yet you said you were going hunting.

That’s less than a zero, you think, might as well have stayed at home.

You come back to no hero’s welcome; in defeat you’re on your own.

You glance at tabloids for reprieve but all you see is your disappointed face.

And it’s plastered. Everywhere.

 

That’s the tinder in your furnace.

 

The crown’s slipped off your head, you’re no longer covered in glory

Smile’s been ripped off your face, you’re beaten, bruised and gory.

“You ain’t no second coming – hmmm, maybe you’re Jesus Lite.”

“Mate!” they laugh brutally. “Have a Goodnight! (I know I will!)”

They mock you in your face, they mock you in your sleep.

“You cocky bastard. You sowed, now reap!”

They say all these words while looking down their chins.

Not knowing their feeding the flames within.

“You never had a chance,” they claim with wide-eyed gazes –

Now this is when the flames become fierce BLAZES.

They viciously shove your face in the muck of defeat.

Not knowing that they’ve just given you the power so this is never repeat-ed.

 

You’re Doing Alright, Keep It Up aka Happy Birthday

Thank God that time has come once more. It’s your birthday and you’re still here to celebrate it. That in itself is something worth celebrating but we’re human and we want more – always. What is the purpose of a celebration? Why, according to a certain online dictionary it is designed for one to enjoy oneself, to honour and to mark as an occasion to remember in the future. In essence when we celebrate someone and said person is still alive and kicking we seek to make them happy and to assure them they are invaluable. With that in mind:

 

What is this? Does she not tire of the effort?

Surely this woman’s insane…

Another invitation, another offered meal, another query regarding my health – too much…

But who am I too complain?

Actually I’ve taken up arms. I shall open my lips. I shall bare my throat and protest.

How could I refrain?

It’s human nature to give back when you’ve been given. Is it not?

Shall I then trade your sunshine for rain?

For you shine as bright as a forest blaze, setting a new kind of example,

Glory wrapped around you like a mane.

Monkey see monkey do I’ve heard. “Don’t just preach it, show it!” they say.

So with you I’ll be plain.

You’re doing alright Nothando, keep it up.

Happy birthday!

 

 

 

The Best Kind Of Madness

“I believe. I can. I WILL!

Silence.

 

“Just because you want it doesn’t mean it can happen.”

“Not in a million years,” they said.

“Not even after.”

 

Outward he stood upright.

Inward he lost all fight.

He failed. Again.

 

“Grrrrrrr,” he growls

Then next he snickers.

He laughs in the face of his detractors.

He can feel it pulsing deep inside.

Passion fuels his heart.

Dum dum… dum dum… dum dum…

Defiant his will swells.

Intense he whispers:

I will!

 

Inspired by the restaurant scene in The Disaster Artist – 2017

the-disaster-artist-poster