ON A FELLOW INMATE

ON A FELLOW INMATE

The noises of others, through this has become

Its own form of symptom. You can’t, of course

Choose your chaos, or your neighbours too,

That’s quite clear.  If on a certain (former) income

You’re placed in the dense contagion of cities,

As expressed through selfishness and pollution,

And felt in the heart, air and ear.

We all tune in to inane chatter, loud noise,

And the lack of consideration for others;

As some feed on silence as a means to survive,

Just as in their way, so many others crave talk.

But the sheen of community is not shown

Through a series of badly made false impressions;

We still require a balance if we, like the pilgrim

Are to lift up our beds, rise and walk.

It's certainly an impossible conversation to have.

Those in country climes may escape it.

But for the legions of us caged by cities, insularity

Does not soothe, seal, or heal. Instead, it forgoes

That brother or sisterhood between neighbours,

As separate cells make roads prisons

Through the bars of which no-one feels.

What then are the issues at hand?

When the hand is rendered numb by this climate?

Everyone does their own thing and nobody close

Stops to think. We consider ourselves all the same

As we chorus in with Arthur G. and Paul Simon,

But the bridges that breach troubled waters

Without craft and sweet care duly sink.

I sit and hear this loud young man’s soundwaves

Rise, while calling out for new music. Sadly, a lack

Of taste is the torture that pushes social harmony

To the brink. But distance does that of course,

Especially when used as a language. That we either

Learn or mouth badly, as difference divides us

And confrontation receives its nod, or twitch,

Its skewed wink. My little road could be a corridor, almost.

I can look into the cells through each window,

And see the separate lives Covid’s planned.

Each sentence seems long as we sit and wait

For the judgement, and of course each has methods

To alleviate Kafka’s crime – chiefly life itself

(Let’s be Franz),

                             

Something to be only understood

When it's done.  So, can you understand neighbour,

That to be in on our own is communion

Especially under graced weather. As calm questions

Climate everyone needs their own peace.

If not of mind then certainly of the moment. 

You’re new. You’ve just moved here.

If we’re going to be friends we’ll need fealty;

A fidelity through the hi-fi, and for the air

That’s shared, 

Hear my plea.   

David Erdos   April 15^th 2020

For more poems from David Erdos visit The Corona Diaries collection 

David Erdos is an actor, writer, director with over 300 professional credits. He is a published poet, playwright, essayist and illustrator. He has lectured on all disciplines in theatre and film for leading performing arts colleges, schools and universities around the world. His books include EASY VERSES FOR DIFFICULT TIMES, THE SCAR ON THE CLOUD, OIL ON SILVER, NEWS FROM MARS, CHANGING PLACES WITH LIGHT (penniless press) and BYZANTIUM with the photographer Max Reeves. He is a contributing editor for The International Times and maker of documentaries all over the world. David’s work has been acclaimed by many leading figures including Harold Pinter, Heathcote Williams, Alan Moore, Andrew Kotting, Chris Petit and Iain Sinclair in whose recent book THE LAST LONDON, David features. He can be reached at David.erdos@sky.com.

David Erdos

©    David Erdos has asserted his moral rights as author of his work and has full copyright.