Copyright jim ferguson 2018

camera eyes


camera eyes

with your big data heart:

were you monstrous

right from the start


keyboard teeth

dead nerves lurking beneath:

was there so much to learn

from the pain of the very, very sane


i don’t know why the fire burns out all too fast

your bleached skull unravels my mortal soul


should it be a surprise

when deformed old monarchs cling on:

they just don’t want to go

off the edge of the stage

see their little fists shake as they rage


‘this is not a public footpath

this is a private highway’

it’s a turnpike road

that crawls on its way through the dark

and far from the stars it’s very, very cold


it’s the riddle of the sphinx

it’s tiddlywinks

with designs on the deaf, dumb and blind:

i don’t know of that long life enigma

trying to buy minutes with billions


it all ends with guns

with bombs, flags and drums

fire once, then fuck off and die:

under the endless gaze

beneath the detective stare


of those relentless, old, camera eyes

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