The Blithe, brown boy

Scrambling through bristling hissing hedge

To catch a falling, wanton kite.


The sweaty, sleepless teen

Dreaming romantic, kindly, sweet qualities

In fallen, wanton silver stars.


The college boy bunking class

To puff out rings of cloudy philosophy

To save the fallen, wanton world.


The man sitting behind the desk

Has drowned them all in a shiny, silver pool

To satiate the moral monster: Maturity 


I have always been a great believer. I've flitted from one belief to another, from religion to atheism and from one philosophy to another, until I finally settled on J. Krishnamurti whose philosophy is that there is no philosophy. So now I firmly believe that there is nothing to believe. Now such a belief would, I believe, have been considered dangerous to society if the authorities had believed me to be of any consequence. No man of consequence they believe would waste his time on the pursuit of blogging!

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2 comments on “Monster
  1. Very beautiful poem sir 🙂 i’m a huge fan of your blog and tweets too.

  2. kalekirkland says:


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