Frankenstein and the Monster

Sometimes we’re Frankenstein

Sometimes we’re the monster

Both creator and creation

All of us

 

Who among us

Has not been the monster? 

Who has not succumb

To the allure of knowing

Even more or better than? 

 

Each of us a conscious construct

Each the sum of our experiences

Each the architect of our existence

 

Genuine acceptance

Of what we craft and how

First steps toward owning

What we do

Who we become

 

We never sincerely have one

Without the other

We can’t be made accountable

Merely punished

 

Accountability

Is true measure of the soul.

 

Lost

Body here

Heart there

Mind where?

I’m scattered!

 

Loneliness

Old friend

Wayfarer

Traveler

 

Body here

Heart there

Mind where?

I’m shattered!

 

Heartbreak

Lost love

Gypsy

Wanderer

 

Body here

Heart there

Mind where?

Don’t be flattered.

 

 

 

As the Word Turns

I watch

The blossomings

And the train wrecks

Both

With equal

Fascination

Loving Him

She loves him more than she probably should.  Her heart so full of him if he were to go away, surely it would collapse.  Never could it betray her and continue beating without him by her side?  How could her life go on with him gone?  She loves him more than she probably should.

 

His pitch, black eyes all she sees.  His long, dark hair her fingers seek.  His laughter her very joy.  His essence the breathe that fills her.  His spirit her’s embraces.

 

She loves him more than she probably should.  Her every thought always leading back to him, again and again.  How could her mind not return to chaos without his residence there?  Never would she feel anymore without him.  She loves him more than she probably should.

 

His voice the only sound she hears.  His hand the single touch she knows.  His smile what makes her glow.  His arms the safety that she seeks.  His body her safe haven.

 

She loves him more than she probably should.  Still in that love she is more complete.  He’s all she ever wished for.  Still the thought of life without him near, her most unthinkable thought.  So she loves him while she can.  She loves him more than she probably should.

 

How Sad Is She?

How sad is she? 

 

She’s beautiful

With flaxen hair

Soft, sad eyes

Still laughing there

 

She’s intelligent

Of that no doubt

Many the subjects

She’ll converse about

 

How sad is she?

 

She’s talented

Her words are fair

The proof of which

Will come to bear

 

How sad is she?

But really is she?

 

She has loved

And that is rare

To love a gift

Beyond compare

 

How sad is she?

Lucky I’d say