THE VIRAL VACCINE: VACCINE OBSCENE? By David Erdos - Poem 16 from THE PEOPLES PRISON

 Poem 16 from THE PEOPLES PRISON

THE VIRAL VACCINE

Conspiracy is a cure for the ignorance sickness.

It gives us something to suck on, foregoing thumbs,

Tits or cock; comforts still sought as the world goes

To the wall as it crumbles, and we fall on our swords

And each other, prostrate before Doomsday’s clock.

 

In distilling the whispers in rain in twain to the cold

Facts of Science many believe that the answer

After death’s most recent question is here.

It will swim inside the vaccine as it whirlpools

Our blood once delivered, factoring through enough

 

Flavours to free the young at heart from held fear.

Some believe it is a spy in the house of love

We’re all building. While some believe that its lava

To boil within revivified human lamps. Or a potion

Perhaps, complete with Genie or strange, remodelled

 

Ship in a bottle. As Sting’s old message song spills

On Alice; Drink Me! And shrink, stuck like stamps.

And yet, whatever it is, or, will be, the language of

Indoctrination surrounds it. Already those who resist it

Have been slandered and seen as the threat.

 

These will be the ones to contain as Butlins receives

Fresh commission. Divide and rule. ‘Enterpain’ them,

In internment camps then forget, what the precise

Point truly was, other than just subjugation,

Intentional or not, this ineptness has provided

 

Both the drowning sea and the net. For once

People are frightened, you’ve won, whether or not

You have planned it. Create the cause. Bring solutions,

And then see how they run. Like rabbits suddenly

Sick of their holes crossing ruined fields to find

 

Shelter, it is the situation around this as much

As the thing itself that falls, gunned. But in condemning

Critique the problem is revealed; innards open.

The fast beating heart is seen weeping as its small

Brook of blood sees cells steam, stoked by the pin

 

That has been set to autograph every future

And make us the addicts from some William S.

Burroughs style dream. This series of stabs through

The skin may finally fix the prison. Whether in,

Or out they will have you, charted and filed

 

With cough cleared. The former drones of the air

Will be inside your veins, buzzed but silent.

As you and I will be subject to everything else THEY

Hold dear. Whomsoever they are, carefully pulling

Strings for fat puppets. They may well be the unseen

 

Gods of water or intemperate earth, or struck flame.

Maybe God is the germ and the coronic thread

Through contagion, sorting through man, slyly sifting

In some completely unknown astral game.

So it is not the cure, but the curative and curators,

 

Who have been chosen to botch it, or not to care,

Finally about the sad fate of man and his equally

Sacrificed woman, who has worked so hard

To protect us and to guarantee our release.

If you do not offer your arm they say you cannot

 

Work, or travel. Mengele’s victimised ghosts duly

Shudder, while those seeking freedom from

The domestic cage roll their sleeves. ‘Don’t let

Them tell you what to do!’ Petey says in Harold Pinter’s

The Birthday Party. But Authority’s men still take

 

Stanley. What sort of play now unravels as they

Start writing on blood to deceive? If you do something

Wrong someone knows and like it, or not, they’ll come

For you. It’s a vampiric age. Covid Gothic. So just make

Sure you keep watching as Dracula first rehearses

 

And then actively hypes this disease.

 

David Erdos, December 11th 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.