TERMINATOR THREE IS IN TIERS by David Erdos - Poem 19 from THE PEOPLES PRISON

 Poem 19 from THE PEOPLES PRISON

TERMINATOR THREE IS IN TIERS

 

 

Tier, or Terminator three: Ho Ho Ho. Now reverse those

Words to and Oh and cry cold tears of snow before

Christmas, as this new stricture tightens and a lockdown

  

In air assumes shape. What can one do but stay in

As they once more control human climate and the desire

To venture out, or to slide across tiers tames the ape.

 

Certainly, it would be far better we all reverse to first

State than fight our way through this jungle, where

The low hanging branches and poisons run free

 

From flavour and remain as invisible as stopped breath.

And so London becomes an entire leaning city of Pisa,

As does so many others, wrapped tightly up and presented

 

To a Santa Claus dedecked death. If not of the flesh,

Then of the soul as fresh struggle against prevailing winds

That bode portent and imminent sedation and tax

 

Actively threaten the means by which we will chart

Our survival, with rusted eyes shining at the self-same

Moment that a soldier with a syringe says relax. 

 

So, what will Father Christmas bring but divorce

From our once beloved Mother Nature? As the scenes

On Christmas cards become tauntings of the places lost

 

We’ll weep tears and in tiers as well. Whatever that means;

Tourniquets that still allow social bleeding, as we all are

Made orphans seeking our parents arms to quell fears. 

 

At Christmas time, so we’re told, with five days granted

To appease us. Bullshit in the snow, shat by reindeers

Who must pity us as they fly from one imagined land

 

To the next stuffing the gift of truth deep in saddles

That contain pesticide, goldust, snowflake and the cold

Kiss of Jesus echoing the Judas seal that stoked homicide.

 

For no real kiss can come to those without their sweet

Bubble. The saliva once shared is now sacred; a holy water

For me, I’ll be frank. And the only real gift I search for

 

As I contemplate a sad future. In light of this year’s

Termination, a form of love’s impotence reconfigures

Borne from the heart’s lonely hold and sad wank.

 

Yes, let’s throw unsavoury words out there like gifts,

As all trapped air strives for surface. For something spikes

Separation as the desire to walk caps each knee.

 

We are becoming acclimatised to our homes, as not just

A house, but a Prison; chiefly, a place to endure your small

Torments with the consolations you’ve bought, to feel free.

 

Yet these become just one more brick in your wall,

Which, unlike Pink Floyd’s must not shatter,

As that wall is all you will have to protect you

 

In your hours of need, weeks and months, and the gifts

Of last Christmas are dumped as the gifts of this one

Grow poignant, as they will be either things to remind us

 

Of a day that’s done; a joy trumped, or new signals,

New ways. Perhaps this year we need flares and Lie

Detectors. Flags. Heaters. Soundtracks for the revival

 

Of faith. Talking plants. Utopian Dreams, and plans

For a new political system. Our own chemistry sets

To cure Covid and Roboticised diplomats who will

 

In their dealings proactively do what we can’t:

And truly honour the tropes within words under

Which this blight is defeated, ensuring that a new way

 

To teach people and to touch them too can be found.

It won’t happen this year, for sure. Will next year be one

Of resistance, or acquiescence? From the top of Tier 3

 

I can see it. That unstoppable force coming from us:

Which shade of light could divert it? What sort of Outbreak

Actually upturns common ground? If you’re listening,

 

Christ, Judas’ kids still need saving. So, come back, do,

On your Birthday. If this was all a test then just tell us.

But should this be a joke

 

That’s profound.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 David Erdos, December 16th 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.