THE GOLDEN ABATTOIR by David Erdos - Poem 14 from THE PEOPLES PRISON

Poem 14 from THE PEOPLES PRISON

THE GOLDEN ABATTOIR

As if in some deranged fit of pique he has been executing

To order, rehearsing revenge on the savage that this

Philistine labels fast; and so Brandon Bernard and Alfred

Bourgeois meet spite’s spittle, as this roasted reason

From a mind unhinged tests the dark. He would wreak

 

Such revenge on us all for failing to comply with the order

To accept a world in which treason in the purely human

Sense forms a state, where sensibility dies without

Consolation, and where the hands of the farmer

Or the governing brand harvest hate. He’s been worse

 

Than Hitler, to me. BJ has been our Mussolini. But over

There, an abstraction seems to have brought about

Ragnarök. For even Johnny Depp falls, besmirched

As the nation breaks under hammers that no Judge

Could silence as the madness in Trump masters shock.

 

Nothing makes sense when absurdity is allowed

To continue. The fascistic fake news’ false credo

Has become a way to trend doom. You can denigrate

All you dislike, or all that brings what you do into

Question. You can turn words to whispers that you

 

Can drown with white noise in dark rooms;

Where you turn out the lights so as not to be seen

By the people. Who in turn call for colour not to be

Killed on the street. You can hide away from the poor,

While striking their skulls on a golf course. You can

 

Murder the world just by living and by reducing

All women into a mouthful of your much loved

Burger meat. But your golden abattoir screams

As you administer lethal injection. As pig in chief

You’re the offal four years force fed to the numb.

 

And still there are bigots who think that yours

Was the answer. You couldn’t even read the right

Question. If you were in that cell, shit would run.

But not from you, away. You may well have stained

Sense forever. It will take us years to uncover

 

Not only how you first gained the mantle, but how

Throughout this time you’ve held on. You’re worse

Than anyone. Do you know? Even your bought wife

Believes it. We watch her face when she sees you.

And as continue to preach your blood song.

It would appear that the world works on whims

When it has no idea how to balance. When you

Fall, Don, keep going. The Devil is there to receive you.

And if there is one thing we do know about Satan,

 

Once he’s condemned you, he has never been

Disproved or found wrong. 

 

 

David Erdos December 10th 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.