I long to be a caveman,
at least for just a day.
To crawl out of my stinking cave every morning
and enjoy a cavemans breakfast
‘a piss and a good look round’.
I long to be a caveman,
at least for just a day.
To go unvaccinated, unapologetic,
grunting my truth into a void that never answers.
To rise without checking my emails,Facebook or some other mind stealer,
to hunt something honest,
a mammoth or a fertile woman perhaps, anything without meaning.
My tools would be blunt, my dreams brief,
my neighbours occasionally edible.
No rent, no scrolling, no wellness podcasts
telling me to breathe naturally,
as if that needed an app.
Food eaten without knowing or caring about ingredients or impact on my body…just eaten because I need food.
The tribe would judge me
only by the size of my fire,
not the reach of my followers.
I would sit in the smoke, thick and stupid,
and feel alive exactly once a day,
instead of distracted forever.
I would smell things long before I touched or tasted them including women.I would enjoy them without performance issues or regret
and I would die before my thirtieth birthday. Only two of my children might survive the birth canal and only one past thirty.
Danger would be everywhere but at least I’d know where it was and how to avoid it….mostly.
Finally, would I even know what happiness is? Existing in the moment would be enough.
Like flowers.
Like Animals.
Like Clouds.
Oh to be a caveman now that spring is here.
Now that is a thought. No distractions other than living your life. Very, very simple life
What I write! And done on the toilet! Lol
This is quite the masterpiece. I enjoyed all the back and forth. Like reading a tennis match.
Caveman vs the 21st century.
Well done!
Loved the ending!
Thank you Adelphina….toilet poetry isn’t always bad…. lol
💋
I am somewhat jealous; my toilet poetry is usually flushed because of the brown streaks. You write of the ying and yang of individualism, the brown streaks versus what once was. We humans have lost touch with our origins. We once made cave art, danced and howled at the moon; where it was women who ruled the campfires. And in some ways, we were more intelligent than we are today. We could talk to animals and create myths about the formations in stars. We will never get back to this, but I do think we can create a society where we once again talk to animals and reach for the stars.
Your poem is thought-provoking and appreciated. Thanks for the share.
-Curt/redzone
Thanks Curt for your comment.
I’m going to the bathroom soon to think about Opposites.