Wednesday, 12 May 2010


Enough of the personal life stuff...writing more.

The Tail of the Buffalion (Part 1....)

We are berry-pickers and hunter gathers. Pioneers, engineers and builders. Building blocks of high-rise thoughts with goodness found. Finding nature and answering her call, and out of her mud, cowpats, sticks, sweat and our own piss-to-bind, we build. Doing whatever it takes to build our comfy home. Using all the raw materials Creation has charitably bestowed. Beware my beautiful buck-and-ears for danger lies at the end of every single silhouette. As we walk through the valley of the shadow of life we will surely meet our maker. We will see birds of every colour twittering away azziz their will. Flapping and singing their merry songs as they fly-on-the-wall of the air. Twitting away to all those listening to the sounds they are making. Making their own way, making their sounds and making their noise and being heard, naturally. Feathered flying birds are the world’s natural-born twits. Twittering away tweet, tweet. The sounds of nature are calling and our telephones are all broken. Smashed to smithereens with the ravens in the ravines. The valley has them now. Away: Out of sight of our children. Away: Out of mind of our grow-ups. We have put them all in the valley of the shadow and there they should stay, forever and a day. Pity poor valley for she knows not what she has!

May I lead you into temptation and forgive of you, all your sins as they are forgotten. So forget them and read on. Chinese whispers: sins forgiven and forgotten: Move on, move on. Live another day. Live a better way. Yesterday is behind us and let-us-look forward to-today and to-tomorrow. To gather together; for our thoughts are gathering so silently. The power and the glory have gone. The power and the glory sent us a confused note of their leaving but we need their notes no more. We never need to hear from them again. We need their notes no more for the sun will shine on our coal-like, blue, red and golden skins. As we sweat to rehydrate so we glow in the dark and walk for miles through the darkest of nights. We throb in the distance with electric energy glowing and flowing  all around us to keep heat in and the lights on throughout the darkest hours.

Looking into the distance and she is there. She has always been there lurking in the wings. Ready to pounce at any given moment like a love-in-a-box crackerjack pencil and pen. Invisible to the naked eye she lies flat on the Savannah grasslands and blends in like a massive Grasschopper or a doubled up Sandbeast. She'll give you no warning of her coming, no mention of her presence but the feeling never leaves. It is omnipresent and fills the air with constant dread and fear. The first sight of her will be her jaws as they grab your attention and come in for the kill like a flying Crainsaw seeing her prey busy working on his kitchen table. These are the characteristics of the silent Buffalion. The female Buffalion is far more deadlier than the male. You will smell her very-heavy-breathe. Warm at first, then frightening but strangely sweet to the sniff. Be warned, the aroma is highly addictive when inhaled up the nostrils. Be sure to wear a pair of wooded clothes-pegs when you walk this way. She’ll raw at you to greet you: to meet you and inevitably to eat you. She will smash you with her giant Buffalion paws and blend you into a splattered jigsaw, scattering you piece by piece but don’t be scared and let her dine. Let her feast on the fine figures you pose all laid out on the ground. She is so generous our Buffalion like a Gruffo, Bettleduck, Fireback or a Camel-Toad-Tiger. Generous without fail. So let her eat you all up. You will see her jaws as they open. Your eyes will dilate and magnify in amazement of her razor sharp teeth and fat red sandpapered tongue becomes visible like an angry Killaguerka quietly screaming for bodyparts. Watch with wonderment as she squints and winks as she licks her left front tooth smoothing her molar with her rough disproportionate tongue. See her flat nose spreading as her crane-like jaws unlock. Her coarse fury tongue is moat-like wet as it flops out of her mouth like a slab of meat at the butchers. Her mouth like the Castle gates opens and her drawbridge tongue quickly falls. Chains crunching as it lowers to gobble up the multicoloured jigsaw, piece by piece. The Buffalion snacks with a smile and she snacks with a wink and raised eyebrow whilst combing her hair with her immense ivory claws....

No comments: