Hoping to get back to more standard interaction soon. Didn’t anticipate the toll on my personal time of late, So please forgive this current post-and-run M.O. 🙏🏻🕊️
bespectacled
I'm such a monkey.
Not the one in spectacles alone,
Nor merely the jazzman of a jest,
Though I confess the monocle sits well
And my fingers suit blues-notes' fest.
I'm also the monkey on a temple wall.
I've sat framed in incense smoke
And watched old women leave fruit at my feet.
I have stolen offerings with the same hand
They thought was blessed.
Children laughed at me.
Priests bowed past me.
Tourists photographed me.
And none agreed on what I was.
Speak abounds of impossibilities.
Yet I have learned that men reserve their awe
For what they cannot classify.
Dress a monkey in a monocle,
And he becomes absurd.
Place the same monkey beneath a shrine,
And he becomes a messenger.
The monkey changes less than the gaze.
So when it's said a rival is as likely
As some jazz-playing primate,
I wonder which part seems unlikely.
The monkey?
The music?
Or that something ridiculous
Might deserve reverence?
I have listened to poets before.
They come carrying crowns fashioned from hunger.
They search for equals
As kings search for neighbouring kingdoms.
But I have sat among troops of my own kind.
No monkey seeks a rival.
We steal, shriek, groom, leap,
And in our better moments
Teach one another where the fruit grows.
Perhaps that is why questing search failed.
With crossed oceans looking upward,
Scanning peaks for a solitary figure.
Meanwhile the creatures dismissed as noise
Were already answering one another.
As for me,
I could play jazz.
Not well enough for worship.
Not poorly enough for pity.
And should competition be wished for,
Meet me beneath the temple eaves at dusk.
Bring your meter.
I'll bring my syncopation.
The old women will leave fruit for neither of us.
And that,
At last,
Will make us equals.
.
-
Author:
crypticbard (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: June 16th, 2026 05:18
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 9
- Users favorite of this poem: sorenbarrett, Friendship, Tristan Robert Lange
Offline)
Comments6
As philosophical as poetic this poem draws parallels between monkeys and man in differing perspectives and perceptions. In the end we are all equal. It is the setting, circumstance, appearance that divides us. Very nicely done my friend and another fave
Thank you, Soren, for understanding and sharing the journey🙏🏻🕊️
You are very welcome Cryptic it is always a pleasure
a most delightful read with a deeper message
Thanks, friend 🙏🏻🕊️
most welcome
Good write A.
Thank you O
Well written. Your poem delves into themes of self-identity, the human tendency to classify and categorize, and the idea that true worth and connection exist outside of competition. It reflects on the experiences of a monkey, both as a performer (jazzman) and a revered figure (temple monkey), highlighting the fluidity of perception.
Many thanks dear Friendship 🙏🏻🕊️
My friend, this is delightful. 😄 It made me smile, think, and then smile again. The humor is there throughout, but beneath it is a surprisingly thoughtful meditation on identity, perception, and the strange things people choose to revere. Wonderful piece. 🌹🖤🙏🕯️🐦⬛
Thanks, Tittu 🙏🏻🕊️
Keep on jazzing Rik as I do. LOL
Andy
Will so, Andy 🙏🏻🕊️
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