Imagine, civilised being...

One of my favourite poems by Wilcock. This is a quick, unpolished, line for line crib of the poem Hope to tidy it up at some point. Here, too, is the great actor Vittorio Gassman reading the poem in Italian (it starts after 30 seconds into the video).

Imagine, civilised being, that you are the

Last man left on the earth and imagine:

All the diamonds have returned as stones

You are the King of America and of Russia

You can clean your arse with banknotes

But why now would you need to do so

Out of some scruple towards the worms?

And just as the phallus searches the vulva, absent

Your tongue goes in search of an ear

You put on Agamemnon’s golden mask

And look at yourself in the mirror, it doesn't speak to you

You search for the Sphynx but it asks you no riddles

You read old newspapers to rediscover

The vile voice of the vanished race

Mean, hypocritical, murderous and thieving

Yet at least it spoke to you, not like now

It lied to you, it hated you, it mocked you

But it spoke to you and sometimes even listened

You mourn the judge, the cop, the hangman

Who were you mirrored with a mask,

Yet those golden lips spoke to you

Not like the riches of the earth

Which without words are dust

Ashes, rags, stones, papers and metals.

You can do as you like, he who is alone is dead.

But that civilised being, the last
man remaining on the earth, placed 
Agamemnon's mask on his face

And lay down in the tomb at Mycenae

Hoping that Someone would see him.