Friday, July 12, 2013

Frankenstein Remembers


“My theme is memory”
― Evelyn Waugh, Brideshead Revisited

I sympathize with the modern YouTube Youth—
the Facebook Tweet Generation who are just 
as ignorant as I am. One can’t be confident 
what's been taught to us or what's been left 
out. These young people have such a smart-ass, 
know-it-all, chatty, textual surface so easily 
Erasable just like mine…

Like, quite suddenly my quickie chatty surface—
as sleek and smooth as skating on thin ice breaks 
and I get a chance to peer down into depths of
nothingness that I didn't know even existed 
within the context of the English language!!!

I’ve often felt during aimless nights dreaming—
that I’ve lost my billfold, my whatever identity, 
that I’ve left a part of myself behind somewhere, 
and that wherever I go afterwards I always feel 
lost in some strange but familiar Dream City

The lack of clothes too, I suppose with all its—
Freudian associations & various tacky castration
complexes does little to keep me from feeling 
like a ghost, frequenting the spots where I once
lived but now I’m lost in some nether world

I’m not a complete human being at all. I’m a strange
hodgepodge of various organ transplants, most of them 
commandeered by Ygor from the Morgue or by accident 
like the jar of the rapist-murderer that Colin Clive 
used for my tortured brain after having been hanged 
from the scaffold of a Crossroad… 

I’m a tiny bit of many men, unnaturally developed, 
various organs in bottles, tainted organs kept alive 
in the Baron Frankenstein’s laboratory. I think I am 
a sort of multiple-primitive savage, yet still 
something absolutely modern and up-to-date that 
only this ghastly age could produce. Many pieces of me pretending I’m human, that’s all I am

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