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From Colchester and would like to do the poetry?

You like words? Writing and/or Listening to them? Of course you do words are great in every context! Well tonight both of us shall be at our regular SKOPT (Some Kind Of Poetry Thing) meeting where you can try out your poem, listen to other local poets, or even just bring along a poem you love and gush about it!

At the new Slack Space in Colchester at 7:00pm is where this is all going down and I encourage anyone interested in poetry to bob along!

Facey Bee event page:
https://www.facebook.com/events/614109732038268/

First Impressions

The nostalgia gets knocked out of me,
when you walk into the room.
Has it really been two years since
I wanted you too much for too long?
The memories of you wrapping me
around your finger and then cutting it off
come back to me. You never replaced
the affection I gave away so freely
and it sucked me dry at the age of 15.
I try to hide the bitterness behind my eyes,
after all I’m sure being away at university
has honed your repartee and wit.  
My only problem is, I see now,
you’re just really not that fit.

It took me a minute to place you.
You were always clouded in a haze
of puppy love and high expectations.
The hedonism of higher education
has dulled my sense of the past;
everything in this town feels different
somehow. Time has softened the edges
of our interactions and space puts you
in a whole new light. You’ve filled out,
filled in the requirements and I can fill
your time with mine. Maybe I should give
you my phone number because,
oh god, you’ve gotten so fit.

Your jaw has dulled over time,
rugged rocks worn down.

Your cheeks are flushed,
highlighting those high bones.

Your nose has bumps and blemishes,
that I never noticed before.

Your hair makes my hand want
to dive in and curl you round my little finger.

Did your university days fill you out?
Or was I imagining an Adonis in your shoes?

Did you have that femme fatale physique
before, or is it a new addition?

You used to be my ideal model, the epitome of
teenage adoration, but the cracks are starting to show.

You used to be unrequited in my mind, I was your
half-boyfriend and you weren’t half-bad. But now?

I shift my gaze away from you,
I look eagerly at this woman in front of me
tear the paper in my hands,
try and gather dutch courage,
not wanting the awkward conversation.
desperately wanting to ask you out.
There was a time when I would beg for a scrap of your affection,
I made you work so hard for this moment,
my rose tinted contact lenses stuck in my eyes.
I owe you so much and plus there’s a bonus for me,
But now, you’re just really not that fit.
because, oh god, you’ve gotten so fit.

As performed by Domestic.

 – Francesniff

A Man May Have Died, But At Least This Conversation Hasn’t‏

Oh dreary, eerie me the fun and laughter’s has come to an end
Someone’s gone done a murder and a shanking
It sends a shiver down the stay at home mothers spine’s
Suddenly the walk down to Morrison is fraught with fright
People hiding in the trees, Cars stalking too close to the sidewalk
Kids coughing sends your heart rate into a critical state!

But your not the kind of thrive on controversy
But you can’t help but notice
This is the closest you’ve felt with your nursery friends
The walk home is filled with half baked theories
And exaggerated hearsay from the local publications
Like telling ghost stories under the moonlight

“Oh maybe it was the hoddies
I think it was the squaddies
I know for a fact it’s them Albanians
See? I told you this is what would happen!”

Walking your kid home has never been so lively

You’re not the heartless type that’s for sure!
But you can’t help but feel relief
When the pot holes of silence that would creep in along
When the gossip and slander would fall short
During a natter with Maggie down the laundrette
Are filled slowly with your fabricated updates

“Jenny though she saw someone hanging around
Michael swore he heard someone in the pub saying they did it
Sally heard the council are trying to cover it up
George still insists it was the Albanians”

Suddenly living with a husband you hate
And taking care of the kid you resent
Seemed a little less maddening that day

As preformed by Domestic

– Lnc0

The Kids Of The 60’s And 70’s Are Useless‏

We’ve been told we’re the lost generation
An age that’s thrown our lives to the cycle of sleaze
But we’re really the generation that’s just trying to cope
Picking up the trash left behind by the settlers of ‘67
Coming home to an empty home again and again
Feeding of the scraps and sparing our own rods

Tell your mumma to mind her own business
Tell your pappy he doesn’t have to worry
Because the kids of the 60’s and 70’s never grew up
And it’s up to us to clean up after them

The kids of the 80’s and 90’s are in reality so much more
We’ve learnt from our neighbours to swat away the handicaps
Of a disappearing drunken father, you only offered you another fag
Of a malfunctioning mother who traded your lunch money for another hit
And for those parents who decided to stick around
We’ve learnt to only expect, to be told the things we never did
To be told we can’t do things, To treat NVQ’s like pictures on the fridge
To accept we’re punching bags for their own poor life choices

We’ve adapted to take compliments from the mirror
To treat our homes no less of a warzone then the urban jungle outside of it
To drown out that nagging in our ear that tries to reinforce
That just because they never saw you staving of suicide
While staring at another application on Reed.com
That it never happened, and that your useless

We’ve learnt to brush it off our shoulders
Because when the time comes, after hours and decades of labour
Of honing your acrylic blade, and sharpening your tongue
And you see the kids of the 60’s and 70’s
Chewing on their Beastie Boys Vinyl and while sucking their thumbs
Looking confused without a son or daughter to take their anger out on
And asking what they could’ve possibly of done wrong to have been left behind
You’ll know you came all the way up here from tattered clothes
And feeding of the scraps of government donated rations
And you’ll know you did it all on your own

Tell your pappy to mind his own business
Tell your mumma you got it all under control
Tell them you still believe they love you
Because the kids of the 60’s and 70’s couldn’t even keep a cat alive
Let alone try and cushion the blow from the sober fact
That the kids of the 80’s and 90’s have no future to look forward too

– Lnc0

Mutual Whatever

Kisses seal my letter of appreciation,
the timeless touch of blushing pilgrims,
passed down through the ages. Four full kisses you leant me,
after months of me trying to steal them.
I’ll try and hold onto this day
for as long as your kisses allow me to. 

I’m sorry but the kiss jumped out of me, 
trying to find a brief connection or a foothold for these feelings; 
it wasn’t an admittance but a substitution. 
My loneliness was an orbital pull and you were unlucky in your proximity. 
Don’t get me wrong, the gloss on your lips is honey, not vinegar, 
but I’m not a fly. 

Does a kiss mean nothing at all to you?
With her they were exchanges of dying embers, 
with you, like trying to ignite wet, weeping wood. 
Typical of you to provide lackluster ignition, 
and then blame the fuel. 
Atypical of you to get so hung up on what is just 
the meeting of flesh upon flesh and tongue upon cheek.

Goosebumps stood raised on my arm, 
ready to tell what you were too blind to see; 
my flesh was fuelled by the fantasies of what we could be.
Desperate indulgences feel real
when we’re only speaking with our lips. 

Can’t you just give my kisses back to me?
Fill those blank spaces in your memory,
cover my indiscretions with shared moments of a platonic nature.
I’m not ready for one action to define our relationship, my dear,
don’t throw us away on a kiss

As preformed by Domestic

– Francesniff

I’m Content

Oh I’m feeling so bloody content
Oh I’m feeling so bloody content
All my riches snug in one arm
Another lover nestled in the other
Feeding of the spoils
Of a nice hard days work
I’m so content
I’m so content

Happy, Smiley, Bubble, Gummy
Their’s no reason to feel like anything else

Keep your chin up
A stiff upper lip
You’ve got your future ahead of you
Choices spread out like a buffet
You can climb to the platinum towers
Make your babysitters so proud
But instead your so content
But you got to stay content

Cheery, Happy, Lubby, Dubby
Their’s no reason not to feel so very happy

But can’t you see past your own sloth?
My motions are bleeding from the heart
My language translates to cries of agony
I have no will to stick around in reality
I can hardly keep my eyes awake
I’m gulping and gasping for air
Their’s no reason to feel so content
No fucking reason to be content

But their’s no need to worry
Because I’m so content
No need to hide me from the neighbours 
No reason to leave me out of the xmas letter
Don’t fret mummy every things fine
Don’t roll your eyes anymore daddy
Can’t you see I’m smiling?
Can’t you see I’m so content?

Blubbly, Subby, Druddly, Mahonegy
Anything not to be called ungrateful again

There’s nothing to conduct the flood
No their won’t be no quiet mutilation this time
I can’t carry out a single motion
I can’t articulate a single word
Bouncing your suggestions and terms
Back to the realm of spite that created them
No need to hang around this realm 
When their’s no way to be content

Preformed by Domestic

– Lnc0

Embrace The Reputation

Uggghh just look at him crawl through the door now
Drenched and draped in the usual suspects
A stringy fabrication of a mod icon, and dyed out jeans
With copper shreds of evidence of musical fandom
With his hired goons and a unsuspecting victim
What on earth was any of us thinking 
Associating with a devil with such a bad reputation

Isn’t a strange phenomenon 
When the wind blows near the gaggle of salty girls
Their cries that’re being carried in the air
Sound a lot like comic book fantasies and soap opera scripts?
I couldn’t even get into a persona and act out any of this shit
Summer milkshake serenades in the park
Or winter breakfast tea sessions on my settee 
A strange thing to turn into a sex addicts soliloquy 

Just gotta grin and bear it and embrace the reputation
Just embrace the reputation
Just live the reputation
Just love the reputation

Just gotta crash straight into the dive
Scantily clad in a laddy supernova persona
Wipe the dirty glares from my cheek
Dance to the soundtrack of the little comments
Yeah I’m a Casanova and I love it
Yeah I’m an asshole and I cherish it
Whatever helps you swallow that bitter little dose
Washed down with a stolen 2 for 1 savers brand cider

Just embrace the reputation
Just BE the reputation

Just gotta turn this parole into a riot
I’ll shoot your clan a look and you’ll like it
Yeah I’ll tell you fuck off and you’ll love it
Articles and articles of bullets for you to play with
During your Facebook water cooler moment
Amass tomes upon tomes of poetry
Filling in the blanks of my non-existence crimes
Hey if it gives you joy, I’ll be happy to indulge you
And embrace the reputation

As preformed by Domestic

– Lnc0

One and all! I am so very sorry for the silence as of late, trust me sooner rather then later you will soon see where Domestic have been! I can’t wait for you guyz to see how far we’ve come!