Last of the Buffalo
By: Charles Giuliano - Oct 29, 2023
Last of the Buffalo
Seeking shelter
Flame on the plains
Gathered in a cave
Huddled and hugged
Communal reassurance
Having survived
Glad to be alive
Stoked roaring fire
Warmth and dim light
From behind
Shadows flickered
Cast upon a wall
For days on end
Sat enchanted
The wonder of it all
Some came forward
Traced their shadows
Calling it art
Praise and applause
Cheese and wine
Cheerful vernissage
Others mouthed words
Formed into metaphors
Said to be poetry
So they proclaimed
Chirping bird brains
Sloshed surging about
Incanting chants
Spawned music and dance
Safe and secure
Waddled in arts
Thrill of self adulation
Pretty as a picture
Treasured treacle
Sugar plum fairies
Frivolous folderol
Snug in their rug
Egyptian scarabs
Rolling dung to the sun
Lurid bright bugs
Free from his cage
Driven by hunger and thirst
Rant and rave
Dazed and crazed
Weak with fever
By light of day
End of a tunnel
Deep dank and dark
Looking about
Scorched earth
Sank to the ground
There were no swans
Swimming on ponds
Or pigeons in the park
All had perished
Sindered by flame
Vanished from earth
Epic sung with lyre
Up river with Kurtz
No dazzling sunsets
Succor’s for suckers
When it was dark
Sank into slumber
Too soon he woke
Well before dawn
Stoked by solipsism
Fed up with dreck
Shitstorm of sentiment
Slop of the cave
Fetid underworld
Reeking of mediocrity
Alone on earth
Robinson crucified
Sticks marking time
Christmas and Easter
Stoically he set off
Guided by stars
Gods of the sky
A vision quest
Seeking last of the buffalo
Curse god and die