Monster, Thy Fallen Angel

I do know that for the sympathy of one living being, I would make peace with all. I have love in me the likes of which you can scarcely imagine and rage the likes of which you could not believe. If cannot satisfy the one, I will indulge the other.

The monster, Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein

Poor monster maligned
given not a name
your creator, your sire
a doctor most insane

To overcome death
its oblivion, his goal
overcome death he did
with rebirth abominable

Frankenstein did flee
a parent most horrific
abandoning you, his child
grotesque and rejected

What had he spawned
Pygmalion malformed
scrounged hodgepodge
a mewling newborn

In nature versus nurture
you lost on both score
no solace followed
not an ounce of succour

They saw your outside
reflection of our dark within
you were clearly no Adam
but a shorn angel thrown, fallen
Still if there were but one
to love, cherish in return
not a child of woman of course
but an Eve of science born

Alas …

No macabre Eden for you
vengeance, an eye for an eye
Frankenstein aborted your love
you then cut short his bride

The not-so-good doctor
his metaphorical pitchfork
hounded, hunted you down
to the barren Siberian North

Revenge was not given
death his ironic reward
creator, father, and foe
the grief was all yours

Your icy days ended
in fire, self-cremated
a child alone, bereft
created but unwanted

Hollywood cast your lot
with the vampyre, the lupine
but Mary and I agree
you were a creation divine

I ought to be your Adam, but I am rather the fallen angel.

                   The monster

Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein

I won't leave you on such a sad night, this most terrifying of evenings. Let me lighten the mood with one more verse. Halloween is all about love stories gone sour and lost loved-ones. There is, however. also gothic romance and hunky bloodsuckers. Don't get me started on Hunky bloodsuckers.

Halloween Has But One Casanova

Halloween Has But
One Casanova

Frankenstein …

Many ladies do a swoon
Tall, dark, and green
Shoulders that go on for days
Yeah, he’s a hunk
A hunk and a half, I’d say

The Wolf Man …

Rock star of All Hallows’ Eve
A howl at the moon
Shirt torn down to there
Bosoms do a heave
Buttons burst; take to the air

But without a doubt
Not a sliver or an iota
Not even a long dark shadow
Upon a crumbling veranda

Halloween has but one Casanova

The Vampire

Now I’m not talking Nosferatu
Lugosi, or even a shirtless Oldman
No pale-faced, crypt-dwelling codger
In search of a not-so-reluctant virgin

I’m talking le vampyre moderne
Bill, Damian, Eric, and Stefan
Your gal hangs with one of these four
Any thought of you … long gone

But you know who’s the worst
Yeah you do; come on; don’t deny
Alright, alright, I’ll tell you then
But first let me pause for a sigh

Sigh

Edward, Edward, Edward
Glistening skin, hair artfully tousled
A few bruises but a small price
For his kind of amorous wrestle

Upon his flickering ambers
Your beloved’s do alight
No, she’s not yours anymore
But his … his for the bite

Give it up, my dear poet
Find a coffin; jump on within
For with a guy made of diamonds
you just can’t contend