Monkeys with Machine Guns
Will Our Empty Hands Remain Free to Create?
We sought—what, we did not know, but we were lost and never found.
We fought—with ourselves but didn’t grow to turn our lives around.
<>
All the platitudes and haughty attitudes,
All the self-help joints, mere selling points,
All the teachers were just preachers.
<>
The path of the wise
Led to our demise.
<>
When it’s all said and done
We’re just a monkey
With a machine gun.
<>
I don’t mean to be so sour
But this could be our final hour
And we long yet still for beauty,
And we hunt yet still for love,
If only out of duty
To the unattained above.
Yet all that seems to flower
Is a new day’s will to power!
<>
(…despair sucked me in, pushed me down.
Am I lost or am I found?
Why do I feel this relief?
I finally gave up…)
<>
I won’t give up.
<>
I am the abyss
Out of which I climb,
The matter in motion
Who creates the time.
The painter and the canvas,
The poet and the page,
The sculptor and the rock,
The fool and the sage.
<>
In my search for meaning
I found the answer
In my own empty hands.
About the Creator
C. Rommial Butler
C. Rommial Butler is a writer, musician and philosopher from Indianapolis, IN. His works can be found online through multiple streaming services and booksellers.
Reader insights
Outstanding
Excellent work. Looking forward to reading more!
Top insights
Compelling and original writing
Creative use of language & vocab
Heartfelt and relatable
The story invoked strong personal emotions
Keep reading
More stories from C. Rommial Butler and writers in Poets and other communities.
The Ritual of Winter Challenge Winners
Welcome to the Winners Announcement for The Ritual of Winter challenge. This prompt focused on winter rituals and the meaning that settles into them over time. The top pieces stay grounded in ordinary acts and repeated routines, letting winter shape the work through pace, attention, and restraint.
By Vocal Curation Team4 days ago in Resources
Comments (14)
The shift from despair to self-creation is powerful. That last line about empty hands feels like a revelation earned, not given.
Soo many good lines in here. Wonderful and powerful social commentary, and love how the lost feeling turns itself into a sense of creation toward the end <3
We do go round and round...and that's the hunt indeed. Well wrought, Charles!
I like the turnaround in this.
Whoa, that’s electric. “Monkeys with Machine Guns” feels like philosophy set to fire! The truest wisdom is what’s forged in our own empty hands. ✨
This really captures that whole journey from feeling lost and disillusioned to finding something real.
I wanted to highlight my favorite line, but then a found more gems, so I won't cite your poem here :D I love the imagery you used here. I join the ones before me: I love the last 3 lines.
I loved the ending - it says it all The last 2 stanzas. Fabulous!
Whoaaa, those last three lines were so deep. Loved your poem!
All of your poem is wonderful, but I especially love: "The matter in motion Who creates the time." To borrow your excellent words, well-wrought, dear friend.
I love how you’ve balanced philosophy and emotion, ending with that quiet moment of clarity. Great work.
Thank you for sharing such an inspiring poem
Love this, I want to hear it 😁
Brilliant & very perceptive! Awesome job CRB! 💪🏾🎉