meloostraightfromhertilt-a-world

      Poet's Home             All Poetry       Sign Up!  Login
© 2000-2017 Individual Authors of the Poetry. All rights reserved by authors.   267454 Poems Read.

Search for Poetry

   


Read Poetry
Snow Is A Softening Of The Rain

In The Winter Park

Home, Ghuey, Sweet Home

Time Does Not Recognize Me

The Knowledge...



Some Women/Some Woman

Laughing Maid

Brilliance

If This Is Any Art For Which You Care

I Talk To A Machine In My Darkness

I Long For Stars

And Even Stars Die

I Am Time

Crowded Out

So You Do (May 10, 2010 written for June 1987)

All Beings Considered

Storms

what makes a monster (sympathy for the monster)

Max on the max

why We celebrate the losers

Make (of) Me A Snow Angel

The Times Have Come Back Of Great Want And Lack, This Is The New Great Depression

The Light Goes On In The Attic (WeAll Have Addictons)

Little Water Bug ( learning the lesson of true pain)

Hope You Enjoyed The Eclipse While It Lasted

Written For My Father Who Isn't Here To Know

I Feel Fine(r)

And With Words I Let Them Go

Used to Think I Could Fix Them.

Sometimes Love Comes With Electricity

Into The Swirling Sea Of White.

Boy Restored

More Poetry >>

 
Features

  Sign Guestbook

Read Guestbook

 
   

what makes a monster (sympathy for the monster)


****************

in a kind of gloomy depth
or confusion
in a sort of self-inflicted
hazing of aloneness

in that cave or near the end of an
endless maze
the gangrenous sorrowing amplitude of loneliness
grows and grows then echoes
until Its all the monster knows
and bemoans
ah, so all alone

no wonder a monster becomes a monster

no one will or dares to give
exactly what
the monster needs most to live

what It craves for most in the deepest of its dreams
what It pines for, whimper-cries for in its loudest screams
what It wails for in quivering scales for
so banshee-loud-and hungry-toothed all bared for
in Its singularly cramped lair for

what a monster wants and needily needs is love, love, love

and so when the first person happens along
and listens disturbed, to Its haunting song,
foolishly arrives at the entrance to Its rancorous gate
its no small surprise when there's a frenzy of
gnashing, rending and blood letting
and breaking bone
the anxious monster cannot wait

and suddenly
yet again the monster finds Itself
alone...

though He thrilled at once,
and cried aloud
now mine, Mine, MINE!!!
the monster's frame is sadly, lowly bowed
satisfaction now past
his appetite cowed
still confused
not quite knowing
at last
what It has undone

the loneliness within Him now
has triumphed once again
and won

***************

Copyright May 31, 2016 All Rights Are Reserved By This Author
Melissa A Howells/Meloo Straight from her Tilt-a-World

all legal rights are reserved by this Writer/
re-edited Sept 27 2017 5:14pm PST

this is a complex idea...which may take a little more time to develop
I believe we all have a bit of the old M in us...think on this

yes....I purposefully capitalized all the "it's"...wanting you to examine
what is the monster here in society...the monster Itself, the loneliness we impose
on those who are different...or....?????...I want you to really think about
the subject of humanity here and what makes a monster a monster and what separates us,
who are the real monsters and if things are really as hard and fast and
black and white as they seem... And why are we as a society so fascinated
with them...vampires, Frankenstein, zombies, ghouls, poltergeists, werewolves,
chupacabras, Mothman, Loch Ness, the Jersey Devil, ET's and abductions....
No, things are not so black and white...I don't think so. Where's the mirror
and who is really looking in?





Vote for this poem

Please Comment On This Poem

Comments

 Email Address

 

Vote for this poem