Kim Kim Terry Tim was strolling anonymously in a park in Seville when she noticed a poet weeping in the shade of a creeping tree<\/p>\n
She placed her hand on the poets shoulder and enquired of his grief<\/p>\n
He handed her his black notebook<\/p>\n
It contained a poem<\/p>\n
About his afterlife<\/p>\n
Wallpaper<\/p>\n
It was called Wallpaper<\/p>\n
It was a poor poem called Wallpaper<\/p>\n
Wild palms and white light <\/i><\/p>\n
Will accompany me on my journey <\/i><\/p>\n
To that little cup <\/i><\/p>\n
In the hills near the sea<\/i><\/p>\n
Where I will feel <\/i><\/p>\n
The breezes of the next world\u00a0 <\/i><\/p>\n
The aching alleys of despair <\/i><\/p>\n
Will no longer be my companions of dread<\/i><\/p>\n
For as I travel in the azure blue<\/i><\/p>\n
The warm sun and the trellis tip trees <\/i><\/p>\n
Will shade me from <\/i><\/p>\n
The sad bough architecture <\/i><\/p>\n
Of the timid.<\/i><\/p>\n
For under those hills of no self worth <\/i><\/p>\n
There lays not broken <\/i><\/p>\n
The high haze celebration <\/i><\/p>\n
Of the victorious.<\/i><\/p>\n
On the previous evening Kim Kim Terry had watched a short movie called Seville which was about three friends<\/p>\n
Two men and a girl<\/p>\n
Who were travelling around Spain<\/p>\n
One day the found a bridge<\/p>\n
High above a river<\/p>\n
They climbed on to parapet<\/p>\n
But only one of them jumped<\/p>\n
And was killed by a passing ship<\/p>\n
His friends were grief stricken<\/p>\n
And also jumped in his memory<\/p>\n
A few days later<\/p>\n
But they survived<\/p>\n
As did Kim Kim when she repeated the jump<\/p>\n
At exactly midnight<\/p>\n
On the sixth day of the sixth month<\/p>\n
On the evening of her adventure<\/p>\n
She had met a poet<\/p>\n
Who held her clothes as she jumped from the bridge<\/p>\n
He gave her a copy of his latest poem<\/p>\n
It was called Carmen Saeculare<\/p>\n
If you stare<\/i><\/p>\n
at the curved light<\/i><\/p>\n
and listen <\/i><\/p>\n
to the twisted tongues <\/i><\/p>\n
of the earth song <\/i><\/p>\n
you will be aware <\/i><\/p>\n
of her disguise<\/i><\/p>\n
and will share <\/i><\/p>\n
the memories of her landscape <\/i><\/p>\n
and the mediocre farewells <\/i><\/p>\n
of the bonfires of the moon.<\/i><\/p>\n
She placed it between her teeth as she jumped<\/p>\n
But lost it in the river<\/p>\n
The poet had anticipated this<\/p>\n
And gave her a copy when she returned<\/p>\n
Later as the lay in bed together<\/p>\n
He gave Kim another poem<\/p>\n
It was a poor poem<\/p>\n
Written in a mirror style<\/p>\n
So she placed it on to her breast<\/p>\n
And read it<\/p>\n
Reflected<\/p>\n
In the poets eyes<\/p>\n
It was called<\/p>\n
The Banishment<\/p>\n
I am but the errant child <\/i><\/p>\n
Void of its mother<\/i>\u2019<\/i>s womb <\/i><\/p>\n
Seduced at once <\/i><\/p>\n
By the giggling rages <\/i><\/p>\n
Of the daughters of joy <\/i><\/p>\n
I am now prodigal <\/i><\/p>\n
Distant from the offers of friends <\/i><\/p>\n
And alone <\/i><\/p>\n
Save for my vagabond shadow <\/i><\/p>\n
Lit by the spit white grey ghost suns <\/i><\/p>\n
That follow and hide <\/i><\/p>\n
The fine words <\/i><\/p>\n
That my lungs congest <\/i><\/p>\n
Locked in my vision of centuries. <\/i><\/p>\n
Kim Kim stroked the head of her poor poet<\/p>\n
She had visited the city in anticipation of meeting a major poet<\/p>\n
But had only met poor ones<\/p>\n
One had wept<\/p>\n
And the other<\/p>\n
Was laying on her breast<\/p>\n
She wondered if she should have loved the weeping poet<\/p>\n
And wished him to be at her side<\/p>\n
3 X 2 = 6<\/p>\n
2 X 3 = 6<\/p>\n
3 + 3 = 6<\/p>\n
1 x 6 = 6<\/p>\n
2 x 2 + 2 = 6<\/p>\n
3 x 1 + 3 = 6<\/p>\n
Kim Kim Terry was sitting cross-legged on the lush carpet of her hotel room<\/p>\n
Both poets had left her and she had promised herself that she would read no more poor poetry<\/p>\n
And would not sleep with any poor poets no matter their emotional state<\/p>\n
She looked at her dishevelled bed<\/p>\n
Carmen was lying asleep<\/p>\n
Kim Kim Terry Tim covered the gypsy with a white sheet<\/p>\n
But not before kissing her on the heel<\/p>\n
The police are after me you know <\/i><\/p>\n
Why? <\/i><\/p>\n
Because my lover has killed me <\/i><\/p>\n
Kim Kim Terry noticed that blood was beginning to stain the white sheet<\/p>\n
She pulled the sheet back and found a dagger thrust deep<\/p>\n
Remove the dagger from my heart and then leave this wretched room<\/i><\/p>\n
This is the room of the poets <\/i><\/p>\n
Never entertain a poor poet as you will only receive soiled verse<\/i><\/p>\n
Kim Kim dressed and left the hotel<\/p>\n
She was approached by another poor poet<\/p>\n
Near my verse <\/i><\/p>\n
You are near my verse <\/i><\/p>\n
Kim ignored the poet and searched for the Viking ship<\/p>\n
It was sailing under the bridge where the traveller died<\/p>\n
But she did not feel any sadness<\/p>\n
She saw his torn body trapped by the weeds at the bottom of the river<\/p>\n
Jump my sweet <\/i><\/p>\n
Jump and join me in these depths<\/i><\/p>\n
A police car stopped on the bridge above<\/p>\n
There she is there is the woman who killed Carmen <\/i><\/p>\n
They aimed their guns at Kim Kim and fired<\/p>\n
She felt the bullets rip through her heart<\/p>\n
As she fell on to the wooden deck of the Viking ship<\/p>\n
Did the peasants tired<\/i><\/p>\n
From their earthly toil <\/i><\/p>\n
Once return along this shaded way? <\/i><\/p>\n
Do the small trees <\/i><\/p>\n
Still bear the scars <\/i><\/p>\n
Of their quiet passing? <\/i><\/p>\n
In the dappled green grey <\/i><\/p>\n
Are we still the children <\/i><\/p>\n
Of their sad lives<\/i><\/p>\n
Or has beauty saved the world?\u00a0 <\/i><\/p>\n
One of the Vikings was writing the poem in Kim Kim Terry\u2019s blood as it flowed freely beside her<\/p>\n
Why are you not trying to save me? <\/i><\/p>\n
Because the police bullets have ripped your heart apart <\/i><\/p>\n
You have no feeling now<\/i><\/p>\n
As she died Kim Kim Terry Tim felt the Viking lift up her body up and throw it into the river<\/p>\n
She became tangled in the weeds<\/p>\n
She saw the actor from the movie<\/p>\n
Join me on the bridge in five<\/i><\/p>\n
Where in time we will dive <\/i><\/p>\n
Kim Kim Terry left her clothes in a pile<\/p>\n
She was holding the hand of the movie actor<\/p>\n
Have you ever experienced life?<\/i><\/p>\n
Have you really experienced life?<\/i><\/p>\n
He said as they jumped into the river<\/p>\n
Kim Kim left her clothes in a pile<\/p>\n
She was holding the hand of the movie actor<\/p>\n
Have you ever experienced life?<\/i><\/p>\n
Have you really experienced life?<\/i><\/p>\n
He said as they jumped into the river<\/p>\n
Kim left her clothes in a pile<\/p>\n
She was holding the hand of the movie actor<\/p>\n
Have you ever experienced life?<\/i><\/p>\n
Have you really experienced life?<\/i><\/p>\n
He said as they jumped into the river<\/p>\n
Kim Kim left her clothes in a pile<\/p>\n
She was holding the hand of the movie actor<\/p>\n
Have you ever experienced life?<\/i><\/p>\n
Have you really experienced life?<\/i><\/p>\n
He said as they jumped into the river<\/p>\n
Kim Kim Terry left her clothes in a pile<\/p>\n
She was holding the hand of the movie actor<\/p>\n
Have you ever experienced life?<\/i><\/p>\n
Have you really experienced life?<\/i><\/p>\n
He said as they jumped into the river<\/p>\n
Kim Kim Terry Tim\u00a0 left her clothes in a pile<\/p>\n
She was holding the hand of the movie actor<\/p>\n
Have you ever experienced life?<\/i><\/p>\n
Have you really experienced life?<\/i><\/p>\n
He said as they jumped into the river<\/p>\n
Her name was Christine and she was fighting in the Spanish Civil War<\/p>\n
Her lover was called John<\/p>\n
They met in a wheat field<\/p>\n
She was bleeding from a bullet to her heart<\/p>\n
He removed her white shirt<\/p>\n
And bandaged her wound<\/p>\n
I am afraid your heart has been shot to pieces <\/i><\/p>\n
But Carmen forgives you <\/i><\/p>\n
Christine was strolling anonymously in a park in Seville when she noticed a poet weeping in the shade of a creeping tree<\/p>\n
She placed her hand on the poets shoulder and enquired of his grief<\/p>\n
He handed her his black notebook<\/p>\n
It contained the story<\/p>\n
Of her afterlife<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Kim Kim Terry Tim was strolling anonymously in a park in Seville when she noticed a poet weeping in the shade of a creeping tree She placed her hand on the poets shoulder and enquired of his grief He handed her his black notebook It contained a poem About his afterlife Wallpaper It was called […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":3,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":[],"categories":[],"tags":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/stuartmillerosborne.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2295"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/stuartmillerosborne.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/stuartmillerosborne.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/stuartmillerosborne.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/3"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/stuartmillerosborne.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=2295"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/stuartmillerosborne.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2295\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/stuartmillerosborne.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=2295"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/stuartmillerosborne.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=2295"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/stuartmillerosborne.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=2295"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}