Fiery like a dragon firing shots and drinking doubles till Last Orders,
Then onto Hairy Dog sipping cider without a hint of a worry,
Laid back stage performer slaying old selves and pig-faced bigotry with cold chilled tones of melancholy,
Laughing in the face of the dark gloomy reality,
Wit with the might to conquer the high and mighty,
Hair fully blue like a full moon shining through clouds of misery,
Magical bowler hat black like the starry night sky when it’s time to party,
We’re all confused as to how someone so talented can still be stuck in Derby,
Friends, poets and public bar owners hope you stay here forever,
You carelessly sinful nun,
Intensely real and non-pretentious like a female Bukowski,
Poking fun at life’s pathetic fallacy with a burning blue flame of integrity,
A gothic black comedy butterfly fluttering high above through the rain,
Drink up the pain of past days and live for the present,
For you’re proper fucking ace at poetry!
– Kyle Norbury wrote me this poem. It makes me sound pretty badass doesn’t it? I’m so incredibly flattered, my ego might well float off into the stratosphere. I’m lucky to know such talented people.
To read more from Kyle, check out his blog. It’s the least you could do.