Kirsty's profile

Civic Solstice

Written by Kirsty Allison on Wednesday the 7th of July 2010
WRITTEN FOR A DIESEL SPONSORED SOLSTICE EVENT IN SHOREDITCH, SUMMER 2010.♣♣♣Come druids, come ravers, chancers and poetsUp all night fiends and toothless lovers of MoetJoin the caravan junket, leaving town nowIn it to win it, the classic time to get out♣♣♣This is it, Midsommer Solstice, the ultimate raveThe party we'll etch with marigold shards to our gravesOwls, nightjars, foxes, tigers, eagles, magic dustThis is the one night of the year when darkness has daylust◊◊◊Come passenger PR bullshitters and those who bookbindDesigners and managers, and drinkers in kindLet's ride and ride to pleasuredome skiesThe one condition is to leave minds and IDs behind♥♥♥We're heading for the castle on yonder horizonWhere the switch lives for the sun to turn onThe departure point for projecting neon raysWhere angels rest with lovers, and twisting embryos of lines ley♦♦♦Hay bales made of gold, A moat of ecstasy aleIvy growing 12 miles an hour up Tiffany silver railsMorning dew and periwinkle teaFree dresses from Alice Templerley♥♥♥Come travel now, Ancients of Muuu, let the flames rageLet's run naked from new crystal lakes, Swim up hills of jadeAbandon the convoy of BMXs, BMWs, and ramshackle cartsTravel by muunlight as megacosm passengers with open hearts♣♣♣When nightshadows are low, old spirits chase to the sunThe ghosts of our pasts, follow our fun fun funAll gypsy roving comrades will crack open their skullsWith the dynamite daylight allowing full summer to unfurl♥♥♥Bono and Jagger, Vogue and the BBCEveryone's going to celebrate their inner hippyThe stars will twinkle, as their minds let go to a full hello of nature's front row♦♦♦On arrival the druids promise to chop off their beardsFor fairies make wishes from face laces around hereSo come Dalston moustasche fanicers and those who can't grow long hairEven the pixies will sell their bells, all for the joy of the fayre♣♣♣But be warned it'll rain forever if the druids smoke all the plantsOr they'll have us rolling square rocks up hills for a self-sacrificial farceAnd we'll never get to the Midsommer Solstice raveThe party we'd sell our limbs for, to moonbathe♥♥♥Come fixers, come tricksters, come half shot tin drinkersDracula addicts and winkle pickersJoin the caravan junket, leaving town nowIn it to win it, it's the classic time to get out♦♦♦