Suddenly out of the blue
Visitors like a swarm of locusts
Occupy the men’s general ward
Where I lie surrounded by
My notebooks and the intellect
Of Camus.
I call Albert – sympathetic
Energetic
A giant philosopher
And tall flame of literature.
But now as I am disturbed
By the swarm of visitors
I’ll switch on my TV set and
Check out some of the programs.
The happenings in ward 8 M
Seem indelibly interwoven into
The lights and pastel coloured
Landscape
Which nature has painted and
Its drama unfolds as if directed
By an unseen God of theatre.
Entreveaux – the grand realism
Of a city in the Middle Ages
Which offers a birds-eye view of
Perfect abstract patterns
Of soft tones
Due to the local clay tiles.
And at night all seems to be an
Illusion
A HD slide show switched off
Obliterated by the God of Plays.
Then I switch on the copied image
In my mind.
The voices of the three remaining
Women and one man
Interspersed by this local dialect
Seem to convert to the ghosts
Of the night
Until you change it on the screen
Of comm’s TV.
Then the red light comes on
As if outside nature has
Compressed itself into a dim
Recording room
For the LK KOR and its ward
Especially ward 8
Where people from different
Levels of education and
Social life meet.
zoltanzelan
ZJG-POetry’18.