THE LAST DAY? By David Erdos - Poem 11 from THE PEOPLES PRISON as the second lockdown supposedly ends

 Poem 11 from THE PEOPLES PRISON as the second lockdown supposedly ends

THE LAST DAY?

Is it the last day? Or, instead will we cling to the institutions

Inside our own houses; graduates of grief freshly granted

To explore once more and invest

In a new kind of life

Where opportunity once more rises

And where the world no-one wanted can, like our loss,

Pass time’s test? I sincerely doubt it, my friends.

 

Just reference Pat McGoohan. The People’s Prison

And the Prisoner him, her and themselves remains caged

If not by the illusion of change than by the uncertainty in it.

As the pissed Pubs rise they’ll be warnings in how close

You come to stand at the bar. Fun finds range.

It will be a time in which the bubbles in beer

 

Have more associative space than those drinking.

Perhaps my own glass is half empty, but I’ll hope

That my pessimistic little sip duly yields to that enveloping

Need to return to what we have recently only dreamt of;

Chiefly that former life of connection, in which full sentence

Served, fresh words shield, 

Giving rise to poems,

 

No doubt, whose rhymes are the lines scored by people

Onto the common page within cities and upon the natural

Earth of far fields. And so Christmas and New Year’s arrive,

Full with the false wishes fed to them. How will we connect

While still sanctioned and what will December’s end celebrate?

The Oxford kiss come at last, or the other solution seducers,

 

Divvying up for approval: as Diktat discerns tit from tat,

Whose breast breaks? And beneath it, whose heart is waiting

Still to be broken. Separated forever by the chance of once again

Holding close those we once prized, finally without the wariness,

Or, suspicion, not of what they can give us, but of what they will:

Touch as dose. The world is now give and take in each and all senses.

 

As we venture forth freely into what some have told us

Is the soon to be star studded air, will we truly breathe

Without risk of inhaling death’s sneer, sneeze, or, contagion?

I just ask the question: Will we kiss again to seek comfort

And that ungloved hand primed for care? Hope and hype

Both confuse and recently intermingle. The deaths accrue,

 

So they tell us as the restaurants aim to feed.

And the theatres adapt with stages set now for stragglers,

And former friends become strangers, blurred behind lines.

Loves recede. I live alone, and so I will remain

Just as lonely. And loneliness of course is a lockdown

In the personal sense, finally. I suppose now I’ll just carry

 

My cage and hopefully ease the door open. Just like Jacob

Marley’s chains, I’ll walk dragging some of the captive’s

Concerns while I’m freed. But I feat that there will be brood

And burden to come. Make no mistake. Call for Crosby.

And Danny Kaye, too, this cold Christmas as they both sweetly

Sing of a sensibility strained by the broken steps the world’s

 

Taken. Satans have come. Now its Santa. So what ease

Or edge will he bring? Another world, possibly.

But he’s going to need extra reindeer to bear the brunt

Of what’s coming, before sprinkling us with gold dust,

Or tinsel, or dreams, or drops of vaccine in a cracker.

Today is Tuesday the First of December. As people champ

 

On the bit before Wednesday, will the high sleigh fall

Weighted and will Santa’s always hidden spurs turn to rust?

The sense of expectation is sharp. We’re all kids on Christmas

Eve. We’re all sleepless. I suppose I’m just saying that the present

We wanted may not be the one we receive. I seek a pinch

Of caution infused with your brandy butter.

 

Once Santa comes he starts searching for the most

Effective way he can leave. Ho Ho Who How?

This is the chant I will practise. And so I wave at you

Through confinement. Night still marks day’s challenge.

But for the love and times we had, I do grieve.

David Erdos December 1st 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.