GUY FAWKES IN THE ROAD by David Erdos - Poem 3 from THE PEOPLES PRISON

Poem 3 from THE PEOPLES PRISON 

GUY FAWKES IN THE ROAD

Did Guy burn last night, or did his face covering assist

Breathing? As he felt the flames take him, did smothering

Stem from elsewhere? As I heard the fireworks blaze,

I thought of a different anarchy rising, forging itself

Through the fires against which we all need to beware.

 

The fooled and fouled follow Trump, raising smoke

Around madness: ’Stop the vote!’ my souls screaming

As I sit snared by their sparks, while the Democrats cry

For the so called safe return of due process. But in an

Unsafe land, where the recess is from reason and rhyme.

 

Their glare’s dark. As Fawkes laid his lines, so, today

Our paths shatter. The British Parliament, Guy’s old

Target certainly needs a tearing down and rebuild

With smoke and soul detectors no doubt, in order

To immediately reject the dishonoured.

 

Who, lockdown, or not, taint its echoes with their

Sulphurous steps. Approach kills. Or, rather, the threat

Of it does when we all grow scared of each other.

Guy’s lost fork in the road, long unchosen led to

Where we are now: suburbed hell, or Dante’s

 

Cul-de-sac, as opposed to tenth circle, in which

The heat of distemper and of panic too, lavas well.

What did we celebrate then, as parents gathered

With their kids in their gardens? A dream of anarchy?

Opposition in the historical sense, or, lost strength

 

In which we could plot against all of those who have

Unknown plans made already, in which we will burn

In our houses, or, possibly freeze, when reduced

By the lack of both pride and place, and the powers

At hand for each person. Where once we thought

 

We could control what would happen, now,

Once more shaken, there are hidden crimes

And clues to deduce. Fawkes was defiled, and hung

For Treason. Now the world’s run by leaders

Who tweet and trash and betray. What did we burn?

 

What was lost? And what can still be recovered?

I urge you all: rake through ashes. And like Alan Moore’s

V, let’s recover and share our findings before next

November, with its bonfire night and singed day.

 

Last night, dummies were burned, but the deeply

Ignorant sell the matches. Next time you strike one,

Which way, I wonder, will the wind influence

 

The kept flame?

 

David Erdos, November 6th 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.