Denice Frohman, check out her work.



#Don’t Let The Water Turn Bad

         Don’t Let The Water Turn Bad

Distance makes the heart grow fonder

That’s what we’re told

I know this to be a lie

If I may be so bold.

Yeah you think about them day & night,

But that don’t make up for not sharing

A little more on your part

Would make up for the loss of heart.

Let’s gather all the pieces

Scattered by the sea,

Put them back together

And meet up on the same beach.

I don’t know your personality anymore,

Will the jokes we used share, bring laughter to the core.

If we had a cup o tea together would it be the same

Or would we be drinking the tears of each others pain.

Seven long years & counting,

All the faces & the embraces I missed so much in the beginning,

Are slowly disappearing with every earth spin.

Let’s gather all the pieces

Scattered by the sea,

Put them back together

And meet up on the same beach

It’s not too late to reconcile,

Reconnect our love once again,

Maybe it would take a while

To understand our relationship

But all I want is to give it a try.

It’s a shame to lose what we had,

But effort is all it takes,

Don’t let money & distance

Turn the water bad.

Kirsty Mad Eye McIntoshImage

Just found this on my comp!

As you sit here wasting your time, listening to me talk in rhyme,

I’d like to bend your ear and grapple with the fear,

Of disillusionment and abandonment of knowledge.

Don’t get offended, when I say you’ve pretended to understand.

The human race as a whole has been stupefied and dumbed down as planned.

No one strives to be the best or to better them selves, I confess, I used to be one.

It seems that mediocrity is the new superiority.

Kirsty ‘Mad Eye’ McIntosh  2008

#Feet! Inspired by the homeless living in Glebe, Sydney.


Feet, clothed in designer leather,

Walk slowly toward me and rush quickly passed me

I’m not a beast; I’m not going to grab at your ankles.

I see the look you give me out of the corner of your eyes, I’m not blind, THAT, might make it easier.

They walk by; once again I am unnoticed.

I want to say “This, is not the real me, if you knew me you’d understand

I used to be attractive, confident, admired. Now I am abused, fragile ALONE.

Some blue and white stripes come closer, closer… I’m nervous and try to conjure up some strength,

Too late

They’re right in front of me, I look up to their owner. Slicked back hair, greasy spotty faced teenager. Here’s trouble I think to myself, surprisingly, a hand is offered, $1 in it, gesturing for me to take it.

I reach out my slender dirty fingers and then watch as the coin goes flying to the ground away from me.

I hear laughter from afar, the stripes retreat… I stay where I am, too ashamed to move, the laughter is louder and drenched with pride, immaturity & ignorance.

What have I become? An entertainer for the twisted, a fixture on the paving stones, a ghost…

Nobody cares, everyone disgusted by what they see

“It’s not my fault, I don’t have an addiction, I was a loving Mum and wife, good friend, a pillar of the community! I owned a home, car, clothes, the usual tat.

Then lost it all in the instant

He died.

© Kirsty ‘Mad Eye’ McIntosh 2008

Ode To Ginsberg

Ode To Ginsberg

I sit and write because I think I am,


Intelligent  profound.

Craziness has an importance, and I’m not

Even that!

Normal ish,

leaning too much towards the normal side,

for me to make a difference,

Leave a print.

I need to not care and then create.

Be whatever persona they choose for me.

They like that kind of thing, the norms.

One of which, I am not.

Nor am I bohemian, cool, or part of the bourgeoisie.

I’m not clever enough to find the right words for this,

so I make them up and check later,

Knowing I will not check later but leave it,


It’s how I feel at the time, it’s my art,

It’s the way it is, just so.

So where, is this



I hear me cry,

I’m a liar

And nothing more.

Kirsty ‘Mad Eye’ McIntosh