At the Cockpit Theatre in London: ‘His Last Cabaret’

Performed at The Cockpit Theatre, September 6, 2019.

And this, also by David Erdos, which carries on Heathcote Williams’s legacy about Brexit and Boris—
but in Erdos’s own key.

When a Tower Falls

ON THE SEPARATION OF SOULS

When a society falls, what you notice first is the rubble,
Seen on TV, ghosted buildings give way to dust
Through bomb blast. Through the sudden heat and the haze,

You will see only the print of lost towers, fading with age:
Time’s fragmented, and your first tasted moments
Clash and mix badly with the afterburn and the bitter

Of what could well be your last. Of course, the world has seen
Towers fall through man made event, false god sanctioned,
But we seem to have made no true effort to rebuild or renew

What was lost. What we lack has been leased and sold again
To new builders who continue to falsify all around us
While tapping us still for the cost. We will not see what they

Erect, or decry, as they move to allow rack and ruin.
The shock will still sting us as we wake to forget all that was.
All we will retain is the smoke that seeps from souls

Set to burning. We will forego the hearts we should fight for,
Because of the definitions that stain us when all options
Expire and we comprehend the full loss. Certain men

Sought our death, if not of flesh, then of spirit.
They used the word ‘Immigration.’ They preyed on us
Nazi style. ‘Give us the illusion we like.’

‘Give us the pretend sheen of England.’
And then in two years destroy it,
So that the very word England breeds laughter,

Derision too; tear stung smiles.

Brexit wounds. Brexit burns. Brexit breaks
Golden moments. Now, only wreckage . . .

Continue at IT: International Times to read the entire poem.