What I don’t wish or desire …

I don’t wish or desire
To put the earth as a planet,
And the human race,
In the specific position or state
Of combustion,
Producing heat, flames and smoke.

My wish or desire is no more than to begin
A hot luminous body
Of burning gas
In the hollow muscular organ
That pumps the blood
Throughout your body.

The compulsive orgonists of West Bromwich

The compulsive orgonists are especially noted for their use of maps and ranters, and their adherence to Maoist principles.  They were a very visible presence in the West Bromwich of the 1930’s, gathering around exposed pipelines to prevent the pipes’ dreams from leaking into the atmosphere and thus being lost.  Though perfectly mobile, the compulsive orgonists have never been outside the West Midlands.

They first became known to the general public in 1935.  At that time West Bromwich was at the forefront of the latest developments in town planning, and the first act of the orgonists involved the insulation of the town’s new cinerarium, a few miles north-west of Birmingham.  This meant that the heat would not be lost to the surrounding regions.  The cloud of ash – suspended above West Bromwich until the late 1960s – was also useful in preventing the loss of exposed pipe dreams into the upper atmosphere.

By the late 1930s the demand for the orgonists was particularly pronounced in the broad-minded regions of the West Midlands, the orgonists’ homeland.  So their promptings were issued at a fair old rate, and though they were sometimes spidery, in general they were spick-and-span, producing good solid soundings which the public were highly delighted with.

In 1960 they moved to a residence in the suburb of Willenhall.  The move proved to be an unhappy one – where before there had been delight at solid soundings, here a series of own goals and insulation goofs led to a widespread spate of digestion difficulties, and soon the compulsive orgonists moved on again.

The Marston Green Maternity Hospital allowed them to settle on a small area of unused land at the edge of the hospital’s grounds, and here they spent the late 1960s constructing a network of ditches using Socratic methods.  Though they never completed their plan to construct an insulating moat around the hospital, the ditches functioned to collect the cries of the newly-born, distilled in the form of rain-water.  In this way the orgonists spent a very successful fifteen years.

The long-term hospital concession attracted the top young orgonists of the day, and their insulations and distillations were popular and widely discussed. One particularly vivid memory I have of the concession period is of the more avid members of the orgonists’ entourage constructing a model of the ditch-network on a couple of hospital dining tables, using old engine tappets. This model is now on display at the Museum of Orgonomy in New Jersey, and it preserves something of what the network was like for posterity.

In 1986 the hospital authorities decided the space given over to the orgonists was needed for other things, so Socratic methods were now used in setting about finding a new home. Much thought had to be given to sizing up a suitable place for the large collection of pipes the orgonists had accumulated over the years, not to mention their vast range of non-standard jacks and the crucially important wind powered truth-gauge.

After much verbal process, and a period of heavy storms, the orgonists followed the indications of the truth-gauge and took up residence at St. Martin’s School in Solihull. The handing out of free intercourse clipboards proved an immediate success, as was the advocacy of Mao.

Two attempts at rejuvenation were made at the school. The first involved the piping of distilled local parlance, to bring the enfant-terrible down to the ground. When this failed, the hosts’ endorphins were passed through the water-fowl on the school pond, and then injected. The older orgonists were subsequently interred at the nearby village of Hampton in Arden.

In 2002 the remaining orgonists moved to Hampton in Arden where their solid soundings, 78 years after they first came to light, were much appreciated.

Daubing of the grampus

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The flattened fin-shape on the right is all that is visible of the grampus – a bearded one.
The three small manservants have daubed on it, illegible splatterings, influenced as much by their readings in musicology as by their ribaldry. The latter builds-up as they move their eyeglasses – without having removed them from their faces – along the extravagant abdomen of the Madonna: the tension thus produced is released in the crescendo of the daubing.