evicted the widow and roasted her children his giant proboscis gleeful his lips smacking as lovers parted as he slithered into the marshlands of stories taradiddles flowing from his cup whetting tongues of hopeful ears and disappeared in darkness and memories of cultural gray matter dumping grounds Cry for our villains the Joker had an abusive father Lex Luthor was unloved Dracula was only defending his home the cop who murders innocent Black boys on empty streets cares for his sick father the boy stole cigars you know the terrorist is disaffected the racists had his cattle confiscated by jackbooted government agents wearing black designer Hollywood costumes hear the sirens City of Compton nine bullets the investigation was closed before it opened our poisoned food employs fracking geo-techs belching coal soot to keep Kentucky happy while polar ice caps burn in the San Gabriel Mountains above jungles of Starbucks and trees of In and Outs but we must understand why the father beat his daughter to forgive the priest who raped his son why the cop shot that unarmed boy and the 19 bodies in the backyard Because our hero is a serial killer or meth dealer or convict or Drax the Destroyer because Hitler made the trains run on time and Mussolini did it for the glory of Italy and Franco did it for himself and the Glenda mistreated the Wicked Witch
vigilantes walked through Roman streets with fasces beating Black boys in hoodies with candy in their pockets and Batman is a vigilante and TV cops shoot but cut to commercial before Castle sees the body and the Badoon invade the panel shows collapsed buildings but the streets are clean as the Towers fell I saw no bodies General Zod wiped out half of Metropolis but no bodies were seen a blood-free massacre as all our massacres are because Marcellus Wallace is cool and Coke is the real thing (never mind the diabetes) I want my
archetypes
sympathy is for the devil and forgiveness is mine sayeth the Lord.
Man plants evil.
Waters it weeds the garden and hoes the row stories myths teach us the night and day of morality so we can see it in the diminishing sun of twilight the hero understands the hero is compassionate and God-like in his forgiveness but knows that evil is not marginalized or homogenized or realized Evil is not ambiguous.
Malus malo est
Pantalone
Image: Pantalone costume design by Serge Sudeikin (1925) for Stravinsky’s Petrushka at the Metropolitan Opera, NY. Image source: WikiArt
Scott Jessop lives in the 135-year old, haunted Midland Railroad station in Manitou Springs, Colorado with his daughter, Kathleen and his cat, Jack Kerouac. He is a corporate video and TV commercial producer, poet, spoken word performer, and Pushcart Prize nominee for Penduline Press for his short story "Mephisto".