I hate going out

I’m so easily influenced

I hate staying in

I get so distracted

©Kirsty Allison 2008

29 Jan 2008

Words from far far away


I’m a sucker for a story

I’ll exchange my best days

For a broken childhood tale

Or orphaned rhyme

Your bad behaviour and bastard rhetoric is excusable

I’ll empathise

With your criminality

Find beauty in your twisted smile

Your evil eyes have put a spell on me

One that I’m too enthralled to despise

Your hair is long, your eyes are torn

Your jacket’s got more stories than you

Because your memory bank is full with hard nights and black days

Your jeans are ripped, your sleeves are long

Shades on ready to burn


Pediment dreams, burnt by the rising light

The sun scorches my mind.

Memory on fire

Violated, drugged or hypnotised

3 times unlucky

Lust revenge or criminality

Excuse your mind

Marry me, give me stability.

Make them see I’m not for sale, rent or lease, perlease.

Moonlight island fantasy, broken by a storm

Which lashes from right to left

Striking down randomly

There’s been no love

Wildside explorations

Medicinal journeys conducted from bed

Trust, naiveity and gold – all sold to the lowest bidder

Sleaze never looked as great as it did on you

When I was tied up in the basement

And you put our drugs up your nose

Leaving you was so easy

As you’d stopped listening such a long time ago


Goodbye, farewell, I’m so glad we’re leaving

Each other, it’s been a trip, a lifetime

But my memory can’t hold any more

Two times the trouble with you

The effort became so full time

Every thought should not need to be vetted

And it’s about time I started to use the tricks you’ve taught me

so well

I’ll miss you. I’ll kiss you and we’ll start once again on this trip of our lifetimes

where we take up each other’s time

do you want to waste your life with me, do you want to forget.


I’ll call you a cunt to your face

It’s a shame you ain’t listening

You lost respect such a long time ago

When I first lost control of my mind

It had all happened before,

My normality it’s not yours

And nor is my reality

Getting better for keeps, Ownership makes me weep

Or lack of it.

An islander forever, a broken shell on the beach

Weathered by waves from beyond the infinity sea

Scared to swim to the other side

My own strength a mystery

A net is easier to cast than a spell as a domocile

I lie in the sand

Coral, bamboo, and plastic by my side

Washed up like me

With emotions behind catching up with the reality of being here beside your side

Wondering if we’ll blow our castaway dream again with our tidal emotions which glow in the moonlight mercury letting our salty tears join the sea.


Realities of untouched beaches

hold broken cocomut shells

and polystyrene

Shocked young crabs dart and sprint out of the way of thumping explorers.


Paper castles, freedom gold

Is there more together to hold

Infinity seas touch our feet

Reality melting in the heat

Is it possible to share the dream?

Can this illusion be what it seems?

Do we create our own destiny

Or join the dirty city

I’ve drawn our treasure island map

Is it another deadend trap

Of london living and breeding frm our souls

Dream foundations, too many holes, in our pockets.


I’m in love with the road

This town’s got all I need

How long I’ll be staying

I can read, feed and breed forever wherever

Or will we keep on travelling

So we’re not going home

The road is all I live for

I’m just bourne to roam, like Tammy Wynette, Johnny Cash and every folk hero ever born

So that train’s gonna leave the station

Leaving me behind

The full moon’s blazin madly

Am I out of my mind

When you realise I’m not at the station

Remember I’m happy at the stop before

My luggage is just a geetar

And maybe I’ll get a car

Or perhaps just a van

Or a wooden house on stilts

There’s nothing I live more for

Than the sun rising over the road

Train trucks glistening in the moonlight

And the glint of the ocean’s gold


Pediments like Stonehenge

Sit on the horizon

Longtail boats balance on the sea

Shoals of fish escape the nets

you and me make love on the beach

©Kirsty Allison 2008

03 Sep 2007


It’s another high society funeral

What you gonna wear?

Gonna make it look like you care –

Or like you’ve been crying since dawn for the guy you met once

At a club

Burning or burial, how does it compare with the one, last week

You know why he’s here?

Did you snort the ashes, or scatter?

Was there a sponsor at the wake? Sorry, who was there?

I was.

©Kirsty Allison 2007


The duck’s bill scissors the lake as the midges chase the evening air

The swan sticks its head in the water

The bats fly in pairs

The light goes out over the towerblocks

That prove this to be the cit

©Kirsty Allison 2007

24 Aug 2007


She spent around 2 hours a week polishing fruit

104 hours a year

5228 hours of marriage

When everyone was dead

She stopped.

©Kirsty Allison 2007

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