No you are not self-absorbed, you are just living life on the inside but choosing to smile on the outside.
Idris Elba cannot play the role of 007, they said. He is too street to play the ever classy – martini drinking James Bond, they said. Pfft…too street to play Bond? Have they seen this Londoner rock a bespoke suit? Meanwhile, I’ll just leave this one here as Exhibit A. Doesn’t he look like a Bond?
To all naysayers, if you still have doubts that Idris can pull off a Bond role, I present Exhibit B: Beasts of No Nation.
In this Netflix production, Idris stamps his reputation as a world-class actor when he plays Commandant, a brutal warlord commandeering an army of predominantly child soldiers in a West African country plagued by civil war.
The movie starts out on a really comical tone but builds up to a depressing and gruesome story where little boys are trained to torture, kill and rape.
As Commandant, Idris is so despicable that some of his fans would find it difficult reconcile the man they swoon over from the rebel leader who enjoys molesting the boys in his army just as much as he likes protecting them.
I put my friend up to watching this movie (because why wouldn’t you?), and she came back to me the next morning with her review, “You have ruined Idris Elba for me. I liked the movie but did he really have to be so brutal?”
She is currently scouring the internet looking for anything that might redeem Idris from the monster he was in Beasts. Poor thing. Your suggestions for mending her broken heart are welcome.
Beasts of No Nation works because of a number of reasons but mostly because of Idris. You see, there is something about this actor. It’s not even about his tall, dark and handsome self (not that we mind), it’s about his whole presence, the power he commands when he strolls into a scene. I can’t really describe it without sounding like a stalker. But you all get my point, those who don’t I send you back to exhibit A above.
A powerful presence, isn’t this what is expected of all our James Bonds? Well, other than their obsession to woo women with awkwardly suggestive names (Pussy Galore and Octopussy still kill me to date…SMH).
You all didn’t think I was going to finish this post without mentioning newcomer Abraham Attah as Agu, the little boy through whose eyes Beasts unfold. Agu delivers a poignant performance from his age of innocence to the point he is corrupted by his maniacal commandant.
To act alongside Idris is intimidating because chances you will get swallowed by his magnitude. But not Agu, tiny as he may be, this is a boy who demands attention, whether he is just selling an Imagination TV or going for his first kill with a machete.
As you take in every word, every pause in his present-continuous narration, you realize that this is Agu’s world. The Commandant may be in charge but it is still Agu’s world, if only fate would let him take control of it.
This is a movie that people will remember for years, whether it’s because it dehumanizes little children or because Idris delivers a disturbingly compelling performance. Either way, and taking the Oscar buzz into account, Idris Elba’s powerful presence in Beasts is something the Academy Award cannot ignore. Or would they?
I talk better in my head but when the words come out, it’s all jerked up
Too many ers…
But why do you choke when you speak?
Why do you swallow your voice?
That’s not me, that’s not me at all.
I am not that awkward, I don’t stutter that many times
I don’t even halt to think about my next word
Boy, you should meet me when I’m inside my head.
You should hear my words flow, it’s fluid, it’s a harmony
I could bend glass with my words
I am an orator inside my head, I am damn Morgan Freeman
No, scratch that. That’s underselling it, I am Winston Churchill
I’m sorry, did I say all this out loud
The danger of being a poet,
You are always trying to find the beauty in other people’s words
But where is the rhythm?
Where are the pauses?
Breathe slow, catch your breath
Oh honey, listen to your words
Where is the magic?
Like I always say, poets and writers are the dreamers, the lovers and the players, the starving artists that the world cannot do without. Whatever you do, make your art. Live it. Embrace it. The hell, curve it in your heart if you have to.
This is the dimension of an iPhone screen – feel free to use it as wallpaper.
I have never met an artist, musician, or writer who isn’t living their art on a daily basis.
We – we artistic souls – live life in a fugue of interpretations, of seeing the layers of the world pulled apart into strands of music, words, color, expression. It never goes away.
The only difference is whether or not we are doing the art outside our minds or inside – letting our creativity live in the background or foreground.
Let it out.
Let any opportunity that inspires you be an excuse: NaNoWriMo, boredom, a dare, a dream, or a new set of markers. Create an excuse if you have to.
Whatever you do, make your art.
Make it in poems, make it in sketches, make it on post-it notes during smoke breaks at work. Make…
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There are those nights we care less, drink more,
Some nights we have it all under control,
But other nights we just wanna be held
When you start to look at the world from your own POV,
Then you begin to care about the things that everyone else ignores
Or those that no one understands
And sometimes they’ll call you weird
Or just odd
But they can’t take away your satisfaction
Or the beauty in the things only you can see
But who are we to judge others when we are all just trying to live through our own conflicts?
courtesy of http://wallpaper.net.in/
Stop it. Tap out. Speeding in the wrong lane, breathing slow is for the weak. Why do you run away when someone still needs you? Why do you go to that place inside your head?
Sometimes you live life backwards, picking up the mistakes you left behind. But such things take you under, chasing life in all the wrong places. They talk and you talk, but no one is really listening.
A kiss is meant to linger but no one is really feeling it when you go home with the wrong people. You went in empty-handed, came out full of emptiness.
Do they see you like you see them? Do they forget you when they leave? Do they hold you when you are sad?
You could leave if you want to but you’ve glued your wings together.
You’ve changed your smile. Why are you so scared of the mirror. The mask fits better when you keep it on. It’s the lies like this that stole from you. Pay attention, it’s all in your head.
Living inside your head, in a dream. It’s a lonely place where you hide. You went away and forgot to come back.
Life can get beautiful in thin air but what’s gonna save you from being invisible.
Get out of your head. Be more out there. Where is out there?
It’s a lost cause when you are really not fighting. You can’t see in the dark when no one is really leading you.
Sometimes feeling inadequate. Getting some, needing more. Why so lost love? Where do you go in the night?
Like D.H Lawrence, I never saw a wild thing sorry for itself but there you are hugging your loneliness. Who’s gonna hold you against the cold?
Someone needs to tell you that the truth doesn’t start where the bottle ends. But phone calls will end when the heart becomes cold. You could feel if you tried but you’ve built a wall. Then you slip back inside your head and fasten the latch.