About montag

My name is Montag. Except, it isn't. Montag is the protagonist of Fahrenheit 451, a sci-fi novel that was written by Ray Bradbury in 1953. It is set in a future where old books are burned but where this isn't a bad thing - it is law, and everyday normality. The story describes Montag's gradual awakening to the subtle barriers that his society erects in the way of free thought. Modern society may be starting to resemble the insidious dystopia that Bradbury imagines. This blog is an attempt to explore that idea - and have a lot of writerly fun along the way. M xx


O human soul
Sleep and let it
The heady scent of amnesia.

O human soul
And forget the pain
Un-remember the suffering
And ineffable misery
Of millions.

O human soul
Be as one dead
To the memory of decisions
Once made
Which drew down calamity
On the heads of kith and kin

Dear man
The immorality and
The greed and
The reactive hatred and
The unthinking, unprincipled
Which started as such
And ended by
In the sky.



Hi all,

I’m going to be making Revolution From My Bed unavailable for a little while. This is because over the next few months, I shall be contacting publishers to see if anyone is interested in setting my work down in print.

Wish me luck!

Naturally if I fail in this mission I’ll be back. If I succeed however, I’ll still be back, but with a link to my shiny new collection.

See you soon I hope!

Montag x


All Is Joy & Love

How’d that happen?
Monday morning
I was dancing amongst
Cosmic I was.
Untouched by Maya
Existing in bliss.

Today my heart
Has been seared –
Destiny’s merciless
I have to cry a little
Pick myself up
Brush the dust
Of becoming
From where
I fell
And head back
Towards the stars
Where all
Is joy and love


Minutes ago

I was floating.

Sailing miles

Above land

And sea.

A little nervous


What was keeping me up?

What if I should fall?

How would my family

Feel about being left behind?

I needn’t have worried

Destiny charted

A new flight path

For me


I stand on flat


Look up at the azure

Sky I have just fallen from

And gently weep.

Feet First

For the Vikings,
And for black folks
Is there
A place that good
Souls go
When they die?
There they may groove
Forever, on a dance floor
Illuminated by galaxies
And nebula and
Where they might discover
That black holes
Are simply cosmic
Bass reflex ports
Sublime poly-rhythmic
From the farthest corners
Of the cosmos.

It is said that the Vikings
Were required to expire
With a sword in their hands
To be admitted to
Warrior heaven
Similarly should
Black folks die
With love in their hearts
A song on their
Lips or the memory
Of a beat
In their bones.

Take me there
Feet first.