CUMMING BACK, or THE DRAGONS STAY DARK

CUMMING BACK, or THE DRAGONS STAY DARK

If we were to fully question our saints would those

Who follow faith lose their bearings? For, unknown

To many, there is a soul slicked stain to bright wings.

The Order of Saint Michael and Saint George is one

Of England’s prized medals, given to those working

Abroad who deliver what this disillusioned isle sought

To bring. At the centre of its star sits a small enamel

Painting of the aforementioned Saint Michael stamping

On the neck of a black man, the Devil of course,

To white eyes that fill with the froth of insanity

And importance, not to mention the evil of a history

Authored and torn by their lies. Such lies fuel

The heart of this much deceived country, as England

Becomes its own form of contagion, or cancer, through

The colonial shame of its past. And which we now see

Repeat through the racism that would claim us,

As the former dragon opponents serve approved forces

Who are there to suppress the black heart. As well as

The neck. So, on whose side stands that angel?

In whose home or quarter does justice and faith

Now patrol? The death of George Floyd may not

Have occurred in this country, but so many have.

Now, the danger is in whose name rests control?

One of the former recipients of the prize was Sir Evelyn

Baring. Governor of Kenya in the fifties, his concentration

Camps for the natives surpassed the Nazis, as his own

Attorney General described. He raked the Kenyans

Like earth after authorising their beatings and destruction

Casting their wasted flesh to the oceans as the will

Of his whim, Lord and tides. When the facts were

Questioned he proscribed that contaminated water

Dispelled him, as he sanctioned dark magic from

The whitest of wands: man as filth. And Empire as soil

For a strain or stem that’s pure poison, rising up

To breach roses and to spoil the seed each man spills.

Sir Evelyn Baring was Mary Wakefield’s Grandfather.

And Mary Wakefield is Dominic Cummings wife.

How far does the fruit fall from the tree from which

So many were hanging, if not by neck then by shadow?

And how much influence leavens the practise and codes

Of each life? We are all ourselves, we believe, separate

To ancestors, so just as a strain of belief rides blood’s river

It can easily be diverted for sure. But then of course,

There’s her man and the Empire he seeks to make

In our background. Was this woman formed by a template

That sought some manner of fouled continuance in the law?

No-one can say, but the connection appals me. As it does

You, I am certain, for what this country is, or was, isn’t us.

But it could well be those who seek to control and corrupt

Things from the rules for Pub tables to the point at which

Veins split and bust. We were led to believe in Saint George

When he wrested the dragon, whose fired breath brought

Destruction to every blade of grass and each home.

But now his order’s been stained by the simple fact

Of one medal. That it exists is the issue, prized and

Pinned on those eager to prise black flesh from white

Bone. That story’s come back through this very connection.

And the history of oppression that once granted England

False pride. Now, in the fray, we seek strange directions.

I beg once more for discernment, a sacrificed skill in these

Times, but it will be all we have left, as they raise their new

Swords against us. The glint of steel may have faded,

But in their legislations and actions, I hear the echo

Of the millions lost to murder and the millions more

Yet to die. This could be a world that turns back

To some of its former horrors. Examine those behind,

Beside and before you, and in doing so, find the reason

To rise and resist and defy. Who represents what we are?

And remember, that you can’t tame a dragon. They just

Burn through the flag they were born to.

As do the Angels.

Now, can anyone tell me why?

David Erdos July 17th 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

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