Friday, January 14, 2011

Part 1 :My miserable existence

                                                          
                                                       By Mory Keita


                                                  Part 1: Genesis 

             This forest of solitude, with singing birds perched on its colossal branches at sunsets and sunrises, has always been a sanctuary of meditation and peace of heart for my troubled soul. Its enchanting floras and fauns, earth and heaven, and perfumed air like fresh coffee bring the spirit of life itselfa spirit strange to my monstrous being; for of little meaning and relevancy is an outcast’s existence. A life voided of love, affection and things dear to men’s hearts. The more I see of it, the more I realize how miserable and  dull my vagabond life has been. Punished by the hands of my own father to endure the curses and sufferings of Atlas, the titan and Sisyphus, the king and hated by men and beasts alike, I hurled my rage in an empty bottle, for my universe is a vacuum with silence and grief as my sole companions. I attempt to relieve my grief by writing down my feelings. My life is but damnation, I do not know the tenders hands of a mother , the enchanting kiss of a lover or heard the wise advice of a caring father like others living creatures. I was born motherless, a result of my father’s experiment to defeat Hades, the god of the underworld.
                                                                                                                    
                                                                                             
         Atlas supports the earth on his giant shoulders for his rebellion against Zeus, the mighty god of the Olympus, Sisyphus is cursed to eternally  push a gigantic boulder to the top of the hill, only to watch it roll back down and to repeat it forever for his avarice, cruelty and mischief. But, I was punished only for being reborn. This miserable existence of mine began in a dark cold cloudy winter days when my father, Victor Frankenstein, a scientist obsessed with life, began his mad quest to discover the secret behind heavens most precious and sacred gift, life.


         In his boundless insanity, he spent many years studying the function of the brain, natural philosophy and alchemy at the university he attended. After graduation, he spent his fortune conducting experiments in an isolated laboratory situated at the heart of Berlin, the site of modern western science and civilization. There he  gradually began planning his sacrilege creating the needed chemicals and electric circuits to accomplish his inhumane goal. After completing his preparations, he stole my dead body from my grave andiit revived  with his electrical machine. Thus, I was reborn. After seeing me, he ran from the laboratory, heart pounding afraid.

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3 comments:

Aishah said...

Hello Mory, I didn't notice you are blogging again. Such an irony that my topic and reflections are similar with yours.

Hope your school is going along well.

Aishah

Mory said...

that is very coincidental indeed. what is your topic about? i just began a new semester and it seems to be going well.

mory

Moineau En France said...

love this; the poetic prose spills its blood and sorrow upon the page, reborn and lonely as the poet with his pen. can't wait to read part 2... will you continue with young frankenstein or move to another miserable creature of myth? thus my quest is begun! :>>))) so glad to find my favorite young poet again! ~laura xoxoxoxooxox

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