When the monster wakes, cities burn.
When it speaks a curse is cast
over the vast and sleepy multitudes.
Every breath is another form of corruption.
*
We like the monster. Indeed, we love the monster.
Many of us want to be a monster ourselves.
We emulate its dress code and feckless decorum.
We follow the same maps, the same paths of destruction.
We sing the songs the monsters sing
in the footless cellars of their labyrinths.
*
The monsters come in many guises.
Sometimes they're a dog barking in the night.
Sometimes they're a baby girl or minor politician.
That person you loved, they're a type of monster.
That circuit judge. That girl scout. Your mother.
Each of us bears such potential.
*
Brute. Mutant. Freak. Beast.
These are other words we call the monster.
An animal of strange or terrifying shape,
is what the dictionary tells us.
An animal or plant of abnormal form or structure.
*
Monsters also crave affection.
Shunned and feared, they'd prefer to just get along,
go to the movies, to marry, raise a family.
If you asked them, and no one ever does,
they'd tell us that they long to live a normal life.
In truth, normalcy goes against their nature.
Like you or I, they can't help but be
that which they are. Such is destiny.
*
Let's scare the children
and tell them about the monster
that ate the baby's head.
Let's warn them constantly
about the threats and dangers,
about the risks and challenges
of befriending monsters.
Hint at the possibility
that Mother and Father
aren't benign creations
of divine invention,
but are monsters themselves.
Suffer the little children.
*
Beware the monster!! Or words to that affect.
*
“A thinking woman sleeps with monsters.”
“Monsters are real, and sometimes they win.”
“Heroes need monsters.”
“Monsters will always exist.”
“Monsters are the patron saints of imperfection.”
*
We used to hunt monsters down
and blot them from existence.
An insult to God,
to all that is good and righteous,
we used to send out armies
and bring the monsters to their end.
When monsters could not be found
(not for want of looking),
we'd turn against each other.
We'd become the monsters.
*
Don't let them tell you there are no more monsters.
They're still under your bed, and very hungry they are too.
They're still in the dark places light never dares.
Empires will crash to the floor, and they'll always be with you.
______________________________________________________________
Monsterism
Bruce McRae
Bruce McRae, a Canadian musician, is a multiple Pushcart nominee with poems published in hundreds of magazines such as Poetry, Rattle and the North American Review. The winner of the 2020 Libretto prize and author of four poetry collections and seven chapbooks, his poems have been performed and broadcast globally.
