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

Zombie Screen Face

I’m going to sound like a proper Luddite – or maybe because it’s because I live in a part of the country that appears not to be considered in such initiatives – but I’m going to rail against free wifi. Free wifi on trains is great for busy commercialists who need to get things done super-pronto, but for your average commuter is it really necessary? It’ll just encourage us to read more news/propaganda, buy more crap/consume and stop us thinking about the big issues that matter today.

Personally I love the dead time, the non-net time. It encourages us to read real books and do real stuff instead of pulling that zombie screen face the whole time.

I think I said it better here: https://revolutionfrommybed.wordpress.com/2014/12/21/anti-quantic/ and here: https://revolutionfrommybed.wordpress.com/2014/12/22/dont-go-digital/



Nightmare of Suburbia

I immersed myself
In the suburban dream
Gorged on it
Spun and twisted
Like a crocodile high
On fresh wildebeast steak

And now?

Now I feel sick
Nausea rising from
My solar plexus.
Each glimpse
Of this over-righteous
Self-important landscape
Results in yet another
Involuntary spasm.

I need escape.

To flee from this world and
Return to the nitty-gritty
Of soul, poetry, music
And not this life-as-materialism,
This death-in-life
That lives behind the
Manicured lawns
And neat facades of

When We Didn’t Know What We Were Doing

(For Jessica York)

We were young then.

Or should that be younger

We didn’t know what we were doing

We don’t now, but hindsight clarifies the folly of our youth.

As living blurs the folly of now.

But even so, our dreams were filled with love,

Creativity and (the need for) self expression.

So down to Betterton Street we went

And Jessica agreed,

So we gathered to read our words,

Send out our vibes

And share our love.

We’re older now.


And less social

But still have the need to express ourselves

In poetry

But back then defined us.

Beautful moments in our lives which I suspect will echo in eternity.

So thank you Jess

For you helped these children boogie


So here we are.

Tomorrow has become today.

Yesterday’s uncertainties have resolved themselves

And are we on our way to a brighter day?

I am the stuff

Upon which destiny masticates

and now sit;

Spat out and indented

Happy and unhappy

Soaked in the saliva of love.

Onwards we go

To the bigger tomorrow to come

See you there, my friend

2018 – All You Need is?

Hey world.

I wonder what 2018 has in store for us?

In 2017 I think I was guilty of getting a little too involved in the ups and downs of the world or more accurately, maya. I should have listened a little harder to the wise souls such as Miss Emily J. Hart, whose message is simply, just love.

The tiniest amount of reflection illuminates all the reasons why they are perfectly correct. And when the time comes for me to dance off this stage, the thing I’m going to miss most is the regular opportunity to love. You know, it really is everything. It’s a message that you have heard from The Beatles through Juan Mascaro to our very own Emily J. These guys are exhorting us to do the only thing that matters.

So my meditation for 2018 is a simple one. More love.

Peace all.

Yo, Destiny.

How is it going
With you?

You’re looking
Quite stony-faced
And I’m not sure
I understand.

I thought that
I could dance with you.
That we were friends
And you would show
Me a good time.

But I am starting
To suspect
That might not
Be your way.

Only yesterday
You spoke in epic terms
Of promise and the
Future to come

Painted glowing pastel
Dreams of
Grand and cosmic
Alignments and
Myriad good things

I misunderstood.

I always misunderstand.

The path you lay for me
Is stony and hard.
It is penance –
Bloody hands and knees.
Poverty and misery
Tears of shame.

Is your familiar warm embrace
But yet
I run willingly
Into your arms.

I Ride Tsunami

I’m so confused

Mushed, mashed,
Made whole yet diminished
A tumult of emotional contradictions
Which unsettle me yet
I revel in their wondrous glow.

I’m going to sail seas on
This surfboard of confusion
And enjoy the ever-changing view
For this is life
In all its capricious excellence

Here there be meaning
Even if
I’m not sure what it is.
What I do know
Is that the blood that is
Through my being
Is the blood that is supposed to flow
It is blood with origins
In my moment of
It is the blood of my destiny

And destiny should
Never be thwarted or
No matter how inconvenient.

I ride Tsunami