watching a movie

starring claude rains

it’s 2 in the morning

cannot sleep for the storm

from another dimension

with a purpose i dare not fathom

you sent

just woke up

02:13

happy new year

02:42

you sent

work on that fragment i sent you

02.59

you

the man with no structure

giving birth

to freedom’s illusion -

crucial illusion -

precious illusion -

you

who delighted the saddest of whores

you

who starved the bellies of gods

you

who sat in defunct cafes

prophetic and lonely

in the apartment,

jack lemmon

waiting for late late breakfast

brought to your table

by betty grable,

her breast

brushing your bruised face,

your hungover soul,

Reznikoff’s ghost whispers

over the last frayed edges of

your 20th century

you who

murdered the geranium

you

in a fit of humanity

you

dreamer of heavens

in the east end necropolis

tired of haunting aching nutheads

in the eyes of bela lugosi

in the hands of boris karloff

you who

saw the premonition

5.4 billion years

ahead -

the sun expanding

human race dead

universal mass extinction

you

in an orson welles fever

saw déjà vu and jamais vu

backwards and forwards

in kaleidoscope time

tripping and dripping

repetitive madness

in mobius loops

in fractals and dead air

and

universal mass extinction

you who

the naked geraniums murdered

who thought about thought

experienced thinking

about your own thinking

out in the twinkling sea

fading out, fading in ─ stretching

invisible women, translucent men

a canny man, a bonnie lassie,

those who can can, those who cannot

recant, directed by alfred hitchcock

sailing out on a boiling sea

straight into

universal mass extinction

boil ham hough

for a fine pot of soup, winter soup

full of dark matter and cosmic gloop,

baby here it comes

space time collapsing

in a science-fiction-song of

universal mass extinction

the resurrection -

the invisible man -

prowling empty streets

in a crowded city

ready to strangle

a gaggle of necks

ready to laugh

at the shaken, confused

claude rains, wearing a pirate hat,

his hidden face,

his body melted

- sun eating him up -

eating the geraniums

the silent murderers

who do not think about thinking

do not think about  chewing the cud

every atom bomb gone

off ─ you who

had the premonition

you who

lived in the future

ravaged the present

dismembered the past

free at last

peace at last

gone at last

the credits

are for ever

at an end ||/\\/\||

After being in abeyance for some time following the death of co-founder Graham Brodie, Jim Ferguson has in August 2021, published two pamphlets as outlined in the poster below: both pamphlets, Kirsty Taylor's 'Turbulent Twenties' and Ferguson's '12 Dead Keys' can be purchased here for £5.99 including postage, in the UK.