Killmonger is my favourite character in Black Panther. This is not just because I’m a fan of Michael B. Jordan, but because his character is the most fleshed out out of all of them. Although I do wish a few things were done differently overall I was very impressed.
Takers of joy and light, selfish to the core.
We think of ourselves constantly – nothing more.
Harbingers of pain and death; we pollute the very air.
We often wind up smashing nature beyond repair.
We are human.
We are flesh and blood.
Outwardly bright as stars.
Inwardly – dark as mud.
We are human.
Our footsteps leave footprints of regret and contempt.
Or so I thought.
Among our number exist a few,
Who buck the trend and spoil the view…
One can’t argue, it’s for the better.
These human beings live not for themselves.
They break every rule in the rulebook – to the letter.
Imagine shouting, “Hi!” to someone who doesn’t know you.
Perhaps a fool who chose to forget you.
In front of a crowd of your peers.
Unafraid of their jeers; their sneers.
Imagine making time when you know you’re busy.
Driven by love and not by pity.
In a time where disappearing is made easy.
But you can’t, lying makes you queazy.
Imagine giving your life to save the world,
Dreams tied in a sack and hurled.
(We know not where.)
Focussing on preserving life, not money.
Slightly ‘out of touch’ to put it bluntly.
Imagine revelling in the simplest joys.
Plain gifts bring double-joy.
When it seems a tub of ice cream gets you to scream, “I’m highly esteemed!”
Imagine singing songs full of the Word.
Strumming guitar strings no one’s heard.
Flaunting not the talent one has.
Humbly covering a soulful soul full of Jazz.
Perhaps that’s what it takes to be human,
To be an inspiring man – or a woman.
To be a prevailing light in the darkness.
To be a tender touch in the harshness.
To be praiseworthy furnishing in the starkness.
Perhaps that’s what it takes to be human.
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.
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.
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.
“I believe. I can. I WILL!”
“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:
Inspired by the restaurant scene in The Disaster Artist – 2017
You’re a fraud.
What? You thought I’d never say it?
Did you think that I lacked the courage or that I couldn’t see it?
It’s so evident it’s borderline embarrassing.
You ask, “How are you?” one moment, the say “Goodbye!” the next.
Before I even got to say a word.
What response did you expect when you couldn’t share one breath?
I absolutely get it.
The most important thing in this world is time.
Who you devote it to might as well be your bride.
I love that excuse, as if you think that a year from now you’ll be less busy.
Think about that for a moment.
Excuse me… where was I? Oh, that’s right.
You smile as you listen to my stories – actually that’s false!
To listen you must hear and when we speak you’re clearly a world away.
Your smile’s as thin as a razor, cutting up my soul… maybe… if I still had one.
Be upfront next time.
As we said before, what matters most in this world is time, so please don’t waste mine.
Don’t say “hello” if all you’re thinking is goodbye.
“I was trying to be nice.”
Nice try. That’s a lie…
And you’re a fraud.
You’re “worried” about me you say? Don’t be.
I’ll be totally fine when you’re gone.
How do I know?
Well… that’s because all along, I’ve been a fraud too.
Inspired by Words of Radiance – Brandon Sanderson.
Fears… phobias are just a few of the things we often keep close to our hearts. We don’t like to talk about them for fear others will ridicule us or worse, use the knowledge against us. Fear is a powerful thing; it’s enough to start entire revolutions – or stifle them. Fear can win wars or lose them. And yet sometimes the smallest thing can help spark the courage you need to overcome that fear. I used to be afraid of the dark. “Used to be” because I’m not anymore. In fact, anyone who knows me knows I now prefer a dark room and night time to day time. All for one simple, ridiculous reason.
From the 7th grade onwards I developed an insatiable appetite for reading. This was a localised fascination, it had to be fantasy (and largely still is) simply because of the creativity it inspired within me. *I’ll discuss how I became fond of reading in tomorrow’s post.* However high school loomed and the work grew more intense. I would no longer have the countless hours to pore though fantasy and science fiction novels the size of dictionaries day in, day out. I had to be realistic. This is what my parents told me.
“Focus on school, read the books later.”
Now I know what you’re thinking. This post is about fear of the dark, what does it have to do with reading novels and high school? Firstly let me rephrase the term “fear of the dark”. I possessed (especially in my younger years) a quite incredible imagination as often is the case with youth. All I needed was space and time to create whatever universe my whims led me to. I only fell just short of the imagination Oscar for never having had an imaginary friend. I had an imaginary army but never the one friend who would take up space at the table etc for that would have been near suicidal. It was this intense imagination coupled with the housekeeper’s fascination with horror movies, ones I had to watch with her at all costs, that made me fear the dark for a long time… yes even into my teens.
So I would sleep with the light on. “I need to read,” was the typical response. It wasn’t nearly as intense as the phobia I wrote about earlier in my blog though. So long as I was already in bed with my eyes shut, I’d have been fine. But that was rarely the case so the light stayed on… until I was told to stop reading novels at night. I had to wake up early in the morning since my bus to school left at 0630. Immediately my mind went into detective mode because the love for reading was too great to let go instantaneously, much less for something as mundane as waking up on time for school. How to beat the system? That’s what I pondered for a few hours at most. The answer finally came.
“Good night. I’m going to sleep.”
Then I would switch off my light, proof that I was actually sleeping… only to go into my blankets, produce my latest novel from under the pillow and switch on my Nokia’s torch. This is how I read Stephenie Meyer’s ‘New Moon’ in one night. I did this often enough that the fear of the dark evaporated. I needed the dark for me to do what I loved; read. And I read. I went through 6 to 8 books a month this way. In a school of 700 students the librarian new my name and would set aside new books for me to devour. So repetitive and exciting was the new habit that even my study habits tweaked to accommodate this mindset so that even now I’m extremely productive in the hours from late evening to early morning.
And that’s it. I told my parents about it a while ago and they had a laugh. It was silly beyond belief. But one can’t deny that it got rid of an unnecessary, hindering fear… even if it may have replaced it with a less than necessary habit. The young man no longer feared the dark… he was just borderline useless early in the morning.
“I will own you. No slave references.”
“I will destroy you.”
“I hate it when they call me saying, ‘Ey, Twin!”
“I will punch you in the throat… with my foot!”
Boy: Marry me.
Boy: Wait… really? That easy?
Girl: Well, yes. What were you expecting?
Boy: Well I thought I’d have to go on my knees and beg. I thought you’d say no a thousand times and I’d have to keep coming back a thousand and one times to prove myself. To let you know the extent of my love.
Girl: Oh. That sounds incredible! I’m at a loss for words.
Boy: No need to be. I’m just so glad –
Girl: I change my mind now. It’ll be a no from me.
The girl went on to be the most controversial judge on the Voice.
Woody Harrelson. So I decided to take an 81 min break and watch a movie. The movie is Zombieland, incredibly violent, asinine, funny as can be and an absolutely awful watch when you’re having dinner (which I was).
Woody isn’t the protagonist but he absolutely steals the show. His character isn’t witty… it isn’t meant to be. He’s just absolutely genuine and genuinely idiotic. But the moment that takes the cake is when he turns into the the world’s best anti-wingman. My man Jesse isn’t even aiming to get laid. All he wanted to do in this life was brush aside some hair. That was his life purpose – much like Woody and his Twinkie. Yet when the opportunity finally arose for the boy to sorta become a man, albeit a hair-caressing one, I found myself screaming:
Gotta love the man.