The Discreet Charm of the Bourgeoisie ★★★

Another Buñuel and again I must rhyme;
Appropriate since it's much weirder this time.
Though unlike before where things start with the feast
In ...Charm it seems eating's like sex to a priest:
Forbidden, taboo, and declined against will
Though suffering fools keep attempting their fill.

A sextet of dilettantes (much like before)
Discuss what is proper, indulgent, and more.
But there where 'society' deemed what is right,
Cocaine/infidelity/murder's our plight.
A strange set of morals; I guess that's the key
To poke fun at people more, well, discreetly.

Their wealth and their social esteem's much less clear
And so is their odd way of showing good cheer.
Confounded by knocking at every turn,
That damned door's bad luck, yet they won't seem to learn.
Is what Buñuel's trying to say to me now
Is that for the milk you must first buy the cow?

To clarify meanings, the cow's what we build
When making our place in this world without skill.
Yes, karma's a bitch, and these six more than earn
Their place at the fire when things start to burn.
Buñuel holds the match o'er the revelers heads
And portends the ending with tales of the dead.

It starts with a soldier, another, and then
A cop; they all share a dream/mem'ry but when
They get to the part that should make the point clear
The ghosts of acquaintances start to appear;
A mother, a lover, a sergeant-at-arms,
They all became victims of external harm.

I'd love to explain what these stories imply
But not have I yet found the thread with to tie
These seemingly pertinent brief interludes;
Though closer I feel further truth does elude.
The crimes of the six allegorically told?
Or larger in scope? Or'm I getting more cold?

Perhaps I'll know better once reading reviews
Until then I'm left with a trail lacking clues.
At least my confounded state seems to proclaim
That clearly there's reason behind Buñuel's fame
The problem is that - though I love the surreal -
I can't yet quite justify ...Charm with appeal.

Alas: unlike ...Angel, I'm left in the cold;
Critique much less clear than that party of old.
The dreams within dreams were enough for a smile
But other than that not much found was worthwhile;
Adrift in his mind like a man lost at sea -
I guess this Buñuel's simply 2deep4me.

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