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.