The Enigmatic Monster Project

Why Is This Still A Thing?

One day aliens will finally visit us on this dismal little ball of rock. I say dismal because as the top species we have simply made it this way. The aliens won’t even bother with our leaders. They’ll just ask for the smartest people on the planet: scientists, engineers, mathematicians, artists, humanists, etcetera. If those people are still permitted to exist by the time the aliens do come …

These aliens will then point to news stories about discrimination against the gays, transgendered people, poor and sick people, veterans, women, children … They’ll point to all the stories about how racism is still prevalent, and then the stories about why white supremacy is still here (and reluctant to leave us in peace). And if you think that they’re going to gloss over the atrocities done in the name of religion, politics, war, then you’re out of your mind!

Then these aliens will ask us: “Why is this still a thing? What are alternative facts?” When our jumbled answers don’t satisfy them, they’ll ask another question.

“What is wrong you people?”

And the answer to that is simple: many of us are dumb, wicked, selfish. Also known as the asshole.

Mostly unsatisfied, the aliens will thank us for our time. “This is why we never visit you. Oh, and we’re taking your Netflix away. Byeeee!”

If Netflix is still allowed to exist by then. Humans like to ruin the good things they do have. What is our problem?

(Oh, that’s right!)

Lust: A Firestorm

Lust as a topic never ends.

(Feed the fire, Primadonna!)

Ripe with generous dividends.

(Flames licking, fire tickling.)

Someone always suffers in the end.

(Self-loving, vain, narcissistic fire.)

Betrayed by a would-be friend.

(Her addiction to violence: insufferable!)

A special kind of storm she brews–one to tear and rend

(She won’t stop, can’t stop, GAWD, she loves it!)

For this occasion, she’ll conjure up a love-starved vortex . . . What a pleasant gift to send!

(The witch has made up her mind; someone’s gonna die.)

A ‘demon wind tunnel’ she’ll call it. For a special friend . . .

(Primadonna sorceress: mess her up, and she’ll mess right back!)

She’ll add a touch of fire–her specialty–fire without end.

(Tickle, tickle, the flames will go; when the food’s gone, the flame shall move on.)

Your Choice . . .

Liquid love,

or poison?

Take your pick.

Just be sure to make up your mind,

be quick–

this is an offer which cannot last, and will be gone quick.

Gone before you’ve drawn a conclusion

for this fine illusion

(of mine).

ashkenaz