ON THE PERFORMANCE

ON THE PERFORMANCE

Bella sends me a clip she has made for TikTok –

One of the numerous sites I’ve not heard of –

Which is suddenly the only place now for actors

To demonstrate comic skill. Robbed of proper

Engagement, clocked in, participants lip-sync

To sound files, animating voice with fresh gesture

As the body and face colour will. Bella performs

Brilliantly; a narrowing of the eye, a hand movement.

It shows the range of her talent, fused now

And focused by this throwaway slice of rude health.

But it speaks sadly too, of the opportunities taken

From us, which we hope return through slow stages

As theatre and film flick cards dealt. But the pack

Is loaded of course and the dealer himself near

Masonic, his own costume of garter belt, cloak

And dagger means that the brazenness of expression

As practised in art bruises light. Truth for him,

Should be masked, as others write the deceptions,

That the poorly cast actor public have no

Effective means to deny. They simply do what

They’re told, even if they do not know why they do it.

This rather desperate need for direction is what

Helps to construct false fourth walls,

Which serve no sense of the real world at all,

Or that of the imagined one either, as the threats

Within theatre rush to us blindly as we receive

Our feared and five-minute call. We seem to be

In the wrong play and like the actors’ clichéd dream,

Are stood naked, bleached by a spotlight that bares

As well as skin, vanquished fate. For a spirit traduced,

Has no means of appeal in the real world,

Especially when its accusers are totally unconcerned

With its state. For we have been chorused and cast

And while the leading players move downstage,

Upstaged, we strain to hear what they’re saying

And try to understand each lost line.

But with each of us in the dark and an audience barred,

We’re imprisoned by the simple need to distinguish

Between this sudden act of becoming and of what

We thought we were in our minds. So we mouth

As they do on the TikTok clip Bella sends me. 

While someone else does our talking and the chipped

Clipped clock sends us nervous into this unreal day

And time. The theatres are closed but they reappear

In our Houses, while the near-masked and masked

Villains gather to parade us all through our screens.

The prompt has been passed. The question is,

Who will hear it? Its lack of definition is hopeful

If actual ignorance is its theme. For if the message is

Fall in line than a darker stage may soon claim us.

But if it remains difficult to distinguish this means

That we can at least improvise, and work our way

From the back to once more compete with performers,

Who preen and speak for us, replacing sacred voice

With closed minds. ‘I hate the Moor’, Iago said,

And more or less, we are hated, by our Politicians

Who keep us nameless and flocked, locked and dumb.

But now perhaps there’s the chance to rise and redeem

Our Othellos, breaking the plots hatched against us,

As our darkened hearts look for love.

There can still be a new play and fresh acts

Written around the scenes sent to seal us.

We can rescue all of our lost Desdemonas and resolve

Our Tempests too, magically. That is, if we can recognise

What’s been writ in order to serve our own sentence.

There will still be a light sent to find us, as we relinquish

Our parts in the past, tragically. We will secure a new

Stage, on which Caliban’s cave cannot claim us

And where Ariel in ascendance casts an enchantment 

Of sorts from above. We will be able to properly

Prosper again, if we can learn to truly assess the bad

Acting that occurs all around us.

We will kiss again, and be careful.

As the false hand is proffered

Grasp it fixedly, dream of fire.

Look them in the eye. Chase intention.

Let the passion rise.

Burn the glove.

David Erdos May 5th 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.