RIC S. BASTASA


The Great Man Who Ate Cow Dung All His Life (Secretly) - Poem by RIC S. BASTASA

everyday
he feeds himself
with cow dung
but this is done
discreetly
for who in this
normal world
would like
to satisfy
himself with
dung
who in this
society would
love a man
who eats and
smells like
cow dung?

of course, he
feared
that soon if
society knows
he shall be
another ostracized
ostrich
electrically fenced
and monitored
and segregated
at Ward 8
for social
rehabilitation

he didn't like dung
reason and logic
so tell him well
but he couldn't resist
the smell of dung
even if it is kilometers
away
there is simply this
obsession for
cow dung
and he begins
to salivate even
for the word
dung

and for so many nights
he prayed
that his mind-set be
changed
so that he can prefer
steak
medium rare
than watery cow
dung

life has its own
idiosyncrasies for
he prefers dung
than barbecue
despite his
genius for good
food

and so
not to deprive
himself of what he
really loves
in his whole life
he eats cow dung
stores them in his
refrigerator

and eats cow dung
regularly
savoring every
fiber and enjoying
that rotten
sticky smell of
rotten grass
and leaves or
hay

how he wishes
that the shrink can
teach him to hate
dung
but this never
happened
he never referred
the matter
somehow
for fear of information
leaks
for modesty aside
he is
a great man
in his field of
endeavor

no one knows this

this is his secret
and i have known this
only about a year & a half
after he died

when i found his
black diary hidden
under the
old creaky bed
because it
smells dung
itself
in his
luxurious house
beside
a river

you know him
he is one of the greatest men
in our history
a philosopher
writer
philanthropist
scient ist
artist
sculptor
a genius
who ate cow dung
all his life

well adored by history
a hero for all humanity
the Renaissance man
as they dub him to be
the man who ate
and secretly loved cow
dung all this life

do not bother
let us keep his greatness
history is always right
do not argue

great men
revered the cow
ate cow dung
and become
famous
throughout the life
of history

their names
written in the pages of books
like sticky
piece of dung
but shits
unknown


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Poem Submitted: Tuesday, May 17, 2011

Poem Edited: Wednesday, May 18, 2011


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