Monster, Thy Fallen Angel

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


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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

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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

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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


Spoken Word


The first time I read Mary Shelley's Frankenstein it was assigned reading, but I was hooked. The story of the mis-shapened creation of Dr. Victor Frankenstein won my heart.

There are so many absolutely beautifully crafted sentences in the novel; they literally and often brought tears to my eyes. I'd stop mid-story and be propelled to read that one more time. I was reading with essay writing in mind and my would-be, soon well-worn copy began to look like it was owned by a sloppy lemonade maniac.

It was my yellow hi-lighter phase. You may have bought a used text book or two from me.

Aside ... bourbon and lemonade is pretty damn good. Goes extraordinarily well with southern gothic and summer nights.

Okay ... getting off topic and tone. Back to the achingly beautiful and yet hideous tale of the Monster and his deadbeat Dad, Dr. Frankenstein. You may be able to tell that my sympathies lie with the son, not the terrible deeds he eventually commits, but with the loving and innocent boy he began as.

I've been a sucker for the literary anti-hero long before it was cool. Not because I am lover of the the bad boy. No ... really. I like them kind and gentle. I truly do. No leather-clad bikers or corporate raider types for me. Law abiding and armed with a strong moral compass beats actual weapons and/or a shady, yet lucrative modus operandi for my heart every time.

But I do like to know things ... as a Buddhist once told me, and I like to know where that which causes so much suffering came from. Perhaps to prevent more of it. Yes. For sure. The fascination with darker characters started that way, but it has led to a surprise understanding of people and the world and a lessening of perhaps the worse source of suffering--judgement.

People don't set out to be the way they become. Certainly the poor neglected and spurned Monster did not want to be malevolent. At inception, his spirit had every ingredient needed to be the best of us, but his psyche was turned as crooked as his form by cruelty and abandonment ... by the very one who created him, the very one who should have loved him the most, even if no one else could. Then Dr. Frankenstein was driven by his own grief and the loss of loved ones. And so the wheels of suffering turn.

Be it nature or nurture, we are where we are, and who we are, because of what came before. Always and without exception. The most esteemed of us and the most infamous. Judgement is like blaming the tree for growing crooked when it was given no sun. A little sympathy ... not collusion or allowance ... but sympathy, with the those overcome by darkness, grants a glimpse into their soul. You'll find there are no natural-born monsters there, but there are ghosts, and they haunt through the generations.

You want to make a better world; make one where nurture and care are commonplace regardless of circumstance of birth.

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Words and Images are my own.

Monster, Thy Fallen Angel is published in Monsters, Avatars, and Angels. Monsters, Avatars, and Angels is available in paperback or digital through amazon and your local libraries and bookstores. Click on any title below to further explore and support my writing.







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