By: Douglas Gilbert

Douglas Gilbert — Fri, 22 Jun 2007 17:50:04 +0000

Geckos are unfair to cavemen — they steal the limelight — make cavemen climb the walls.
Gecco fascicularis Unfair To Cavemen
What a cruel twist of fate that just when we cavemen have decided to emerge from the caves and other secret places, a company has made commercials mocking us. I suppose they have a point when they say they didn’t know we still existed and thought we had gone extinct, and so could not be held responsible for what they call a satire. We had been keeping a low profile, but some Neanderthal decided to join the upper classes and began calling themselves neo-sapiens or cavemen and flaunting their money. I don’t know how they expected to go unnoticed. US TV is still running those insulting commercials against cavemen. Some Neanderthals want to be called neo-sapiens or “cavemen” only. I don’t think a mere change in semantics will help. Not everyone is aware that Neanderthals have survived to this day by hiding in very deep caves. We are just making ourselves known now. (well, anyway, I thought it was a bad idea).The ads have something to do with a talking lizard of some kind. It seems unseemly to be glorifying a reptile. They are cold-blooded, you know. I wrote a poem about it, sort of…. might as well add it into the diary:

In support of insurance
the geckos climb the wall
mock us behind
our hairy backs,
cold-blooded flaks
who solicit
policies
by the jocular
of the popular, but
we cavemen
not crude
stoically
write poetry
as graceful as an antelope
as fierce as a lion
cave paintings and all

New Entry:
I can see why they call the city a “concrete jungle”. But the women are beautiful and graceful like a deer…
Dear Diary,
On forest’s edge
my spear seems not steady
stone’s throw away
from missing red deer
gone with cattle, fenced
by plank woods, tame

Still frozen out
on edge
I’ve lost my
säng-froid
beyond the Ice Age

She is like a red deer, but
she will not stray
stays deep in the jungle; it’s

hard to ambush her heart
when I am edgy
my spear heavy

Supercilious
she will not touch
the edge of my brow
the forest of my desire
unless
I meet her for coffee
at the Antelope Hotel
mind my manners –
small spoon on cantaloupe

I’ve made a date with her. I guess I should keep her anonymous, otherwise she’ll be a laughingstock.
NEW ENTRY(good news)
Going To Dinner
Her roundness astounded me
glorious ballet danced her
to our table
ecstasy tableau

The mâitre d’ hôtel
knows her kindness
smiles at us,
will serve
mixed pleasures
without a raised eyebrow –
he is a fine shaman
uncorks champagne
and venison.

Gorgeous is the evening
when she speaks to me
as hunter of love
knows my appetite profoundly

She stroked
the hair of my back
my buttocks,
raised me right
with sheep skin
on my rod
to save my genes
for a future
cherished child
when glory would be our name,
dancers of wealth
secretly sharing
with every child who cries
as have we

Never have I seen
such a feast

She is a smile, and
I am a sigh,
my hug accepted.

I am we,
we sing

Ring me forever

NEW ENTRY
Y’know, despite their claimed sophistication, some of the neo’s don’t want to scientifically examine some of our traditions. The elders especially don’t want certain traditions and secrets examined. So they’re not as modern as they think they are….
Secret Cave
Neanderthals get with it:
the modern age

Our elders still
tell tales –
the visit of the gods
who made Sun Fire
in the caves,
made magic talking boxes
spirit digging spears
and running stones

I’m tired of slogans –
secrets are sacred,
don’t approach the Sun Fire
in the Star Cave

The secret cave ?
Some day, maybe,
I’ll give a
guided tour,
let scientists see
the endless light

But for now
I’ll go back
to the endless light
where I’ll write new poems,
come back out to the computer, maybe,
hope the satellites’ radar
won’t ever penetrate the cave
before I finish my book, and
humiliate the other brutes
who exiled me from their
emerging pomposity

NEW ENTRY
Passages in June
I’ve been to the star cave
tried to save my thoughts in rhyme
to be the Neanderthal
poet laureate
(and no, I will not
use euphemisms —
native caveman, or
neo-sapien. Silly
to deny I’m
Neanderthal,
h or no h)

But it’s so tedious
coming out of the cave,
though I know
the maze of passages,
just to post at a computer
so far
so foreign to me
an artist not a hunter,
perhaps, a proto-shaman
who still can not
do routine traipsing
like a meditation,
who feels no ontology
snaking around stalagmites
as a native
not a tourist –
bored

Maybe I should
run cables
into caves,
pirouette a line
around lime and trouvère

I’ve heard
the ancients say
there are silken spider ropes
below the floor –
sounds like cables from the gods, but
ancient technology
seems not likely
to be compatible —
doesn’t seem wise
to ask the Cableman
to hook up to “this”
and don’t ask
any questions, and
I’m not even sure if
it’s output or input. I’ll
come out of the cave to post.

NEW ENTRY
She’s telling me
to be more civilized
like the neo-sapien
upper-class snobs
who we,
before the language change,
called the hunter class –
our artists and priests
were never allowed
to be leaders

I call you all the time,
she says,
you’re never home,
you don’t answer e-mails
don’t pick up the phone

Yeah, I know –
I’m not in my apartment mostly.
I’m in the star cave.

I can’t lay cable
in the star cave
to connect to the Internet –
can I ?
Gecco Fascicularis Unfair To Cavemen

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By: Douglas Gilbert