Alive in the house of the monkey king,
whilst the trumpets moan
and a buffet is set before me,
whilst virgins tend to my needs
and menservants satisfy my whims.
I can no longer exist in the real world,
the world of the mundane,
the world of man,
of lies,
of arrogance,
the world of torture
and deceit.
In that world
I am death,
I am sorrow
with a deafened ear
and blunted brow,
with a blinded eye
and blighted mind,
with a callous spirit
infected with compliance,
diseased with complacency.
In that world I am death,
a douser of flame,
a destroyer of light.
In that world I am
death.
But I shall always remain
alive
in the house of the monkey king.
Copyright (C) MMIV (2004)
Derek R. Audette
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/alive-in-the-house-of-the-monkey-king/
