A muse to a dying poet (part 2)

Who ever said it was written in the stars
Tonight it’s written on his feet
An invisible map
Points to where lovers meet

Lines fading fast
Ink running past
Tears on the pavement

Stumble upon a
A conversation between
An educated drunk
And a Camden punk
Un phased by this predicament
Round these ends it’s not unusual
A candy shop of crazies
Lazies, who wake at dark
Greeting narcotics
Wish they’d stop accusing  me of popping anti psychotics
Give up trying not to be so stereotypical.


So infectious
And utterly precious the gift you give to me when you are near
A muse. I am Fastidious.

I got a pang for you tonight
I got a pang for you tonight

Love ignites through velvet sky’s
Our bodies a million miles apart
Our Spirits side by side
If its the same moon we see tonight
Look for me
Look for me
I’ll look for you

Draw our names in the stars
Our company… a gentle strumming of guitars

I’m not that far away

Look for me
Look for me
I’ll look for you


Young girl, old fool

I’m looking in the mirror I used to be you

Young girl, in the mirror

Now I am that fool

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6 Responses to A muse to a dying poet (part 2)

  1. oniseljada says:

    vraiment magnifique!! kimberleena…!

  2. 1usasupporter says:

    Another one for publishing … inspired by Living in the Spirit 24/7… I do believe!

  3. i know you says:

    ?sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry?
    Anyway, this is what the shrink said (deep breath)
    · Is there any evidence to support this pathological delusion
    · Maybe we need to get you some anti-psychotic medication
    · Thank fuck you do not know where he lives

    Jokes aside, but I don’t think fully appropriate, really. He also said: Might There Be Any Way Of Asking The Question (but hooooo, do not remotely do it drunk, to which I said, so how the fuck could I not do it drunk, given how scared it would make me?!?!?!) The Question being, kind of: is the fridge really talking to me? And oh, how I want it to be, of course! And I do. Although in other ways I don’t. Although I do. But anyways I will fight their medication: Section me for Christmas, it would almost be a relief, frankly. And that’s true.
    Yes, that is true.
    You don’t know the half, but if this is you, FUCK how I loved you, laying down into the orchard with a great funnel into my ear, waiting to become a ghost brought back to life. Or death.
    Fuck how I loved you.
    That day in the plane, long before your time, it was like nothing i could have imagined.
    It wasn’t the stret-full order of the armed forces, even as of course they played their part
    And it wasn’t actually even exhilaration.
    The wind was just wild, I could barely stand
    No need to spit in my face to make me jump, I could barely hold on.
    And anyway, I wanted to go, I didn’t want to stay
    And it was so calm, going down
    It was like nothing I ever envisaged
    I just hung.
    It was so calm
    It was so peace.

  4. Gail says:

    Where the hell is Julot Luminaire when you want him?”?!”??