I Want to Be “The Exorcist”, So I can Purge Out the Beast
And rid us of Frankenstein
We have officially lost it. It was a slow and steady ride to the bottom. No, actually it’s worse. It’s a painstakingly slow slip to the bottomless pit.
We are engaged in what has to be the worst Shakespearean drama of all time. I am quite certain the honorable English playwright would be aghast at the notion that he was incapable of producing verses — that resemble the ones we are all responsible for.
As ugly as it is — we can’t deny that the patchwork of the new and improved Frankenstein — is a design that cannot and should not be replicated.
He was already brutal in stature and coarse in word and deed. He didn’t need our assistance when it came to roaring his way through the crowd of revelers — challenging his every step.
And, there is no denying the magnetism of his charms.
Yes! Charms! How else can you describe his ability to hold us under siege — as we blindly fill up our pages with his likeness?We scour the planet of deplorables and wait for them to sound the alarm.
We don’t need to be invited or warned. We have been bitten by the bug of greed that has filtered into our veins — and turned us into little green monsters that can switch shapes — to fit the shallow openings that beckon our attention.
Every time he barks — the defaults shift into gear. And away we go!
Women. Sex. Assault. Immigrants. The Blacks. The Latinos. The Ones Without Description. The Despised. Groping. Fondling. Locker Rooms. Rape. Octopus. Misogynist. Obnoxious. Inappropriate. Breasts, Lewd, Racist, Sexist, Pussy.
Sounds like the end of days.
If only bad dreams could stay locked up in the minds of those who are too scared to harbor them — and, even more frightened to release the virus.
We are going viral folks!
We’ve become the best versions of what the monster in all his dread ordained when he promised greatness on a larger scale.
We are great.
We’ve built the cyclone of our distress and he circles us with the mighty winds of disenchantment — as we watch ourselves transform into the beasts of a kingdom that has expanded — to include all the accompaniments that create:
The Shock of Horrors.
I watched The Exorcist as a child and broke our VCR because I tried to get the tape out — as opposed to leaving it as evidence for my mom to find. I was living in Nigeria at the time — and electricity was sporadic. Often times I didn’t give a fuck — but this time I did.
I am now in Los Angeles — and the studio I am subletting lost power recently. It was very early in the morning and as the darkness enveloped me — I recalled the film that was released the year I was born.
I remembered being mesmerized by the image of the girl possessed by the demon — and how I developed a crush on the priest that was hired to save her.
The power of his gift killed him in the end but, I confronted the adulation I had for a mere mortal who was cloaked for the task of swallowing the evil that abides in us.
We have past the point of redemption.
All I want for Halloween is to save us with the cross that has been twisted and manipulated with pubic hairs, distressed faculties and the large grip of Frankenstein — shaking off the editorial bullets that bounce off his electric frame.
There will be no way out.
When all is said and done — the survivors of the apocalypse will retain the covering of the code that label them losers.
We had our chance to escape the seduction of traffic — moving at a rapid pace and cajoling the instruments that kept us clean.
We did not stay strong. We are weak monsters of the worst kind. Beasts with no horns to fight off the debris of our recklessness.
I desperately wanted to be the exorcist who could purge out the beastly instincts — and rid us of Frankenstein.
But, that would mean killing everyone.
Maybe, God should take this. He does have a flawless history of cleaning house.