An Innocent Enquiry

168 hours feels just like a few minutes
Spent staring at the hieroglyphics on a plastered wall
Laying with the company of plates of unfinished dinners
Tea stains on the bed, sauce stains on my shirts
Seeing the opportunity to cleanse their karma
People came and went and recited lines
From a prepared scripted emulating admiration
That was never there back when the woman took in air

I was still clutching my hands to that old DS
Bruising of the D-Pad etched into my fingers
Still on the same save file as I was that week
I never averted my eyes from the display
I couldn’t bare the images of them carrying you out
To be scarred into my mind every time I look at the stairs
I couldn’t bare the thought of acknowledging this
As the world outside this screen, with the way things are

They wanted me to come back to the world of outside
But what wonders could possibly be out there now?
I hear the moans of the spoilt lobe stretched army
Caressing the creases of a spare 10 pound note
When the anniversaries of their mothers birth rolled around
They don’t know what it is they really have

I hear boring boys prepared to put there lives on the line
All for the vine, for the retweet, for the reblog
They want to make there families feel how I feel now
They don’t know what it is they’re really doing
I hear the cries of distressed souls bleeding from their hearts
Playing roulette with the choice of life or the choice of death
The kinds of choices people have taken out of their cold hands
They don’t know what it is they’re throwing away

Even when you came back to class
We couldn’t help but notice an absence
What happened to the boy we used to know?
Who was this corpse that now carries your name?
We asked why it was you never spoke anymore
We wondered why you weren’t as funny as you used to be
You couldn’t even muster the will to crack a smile
Let alone crack a joke

Only the few of us that had the nerve to gossip knew
While collecting scraps of the article you left behind
Oh we didn’t know what we were saying to you
What could we say to a boy like you?
You carried yourself between the corridors
Like you were being carried by the breeze
Your body may have been alongside us
But I don’t think you were ever really there

As Preformed By Domestic

– Lnc0

Distrust

“Your not as good looking as what I’d usually go for
But tonight’s your lucky night girl”

And with that civilization has come to it’s knees
As I was foolishly led to the lions den
With promises of scrapbook fillings
And maybe a net profit of companionship
Maybe there was a chance
Before the machines had gotten their eyes on me

“Hey bae I’m only messing around
There’s no need to be so serious
No one ever went to jail for touching a thigh right?
So just tell us your name?”

A gaze like a laser sight
A Domineering mechanical contraption
Made to keep girls like me under surveillance
Every breach of contact like a claw severing the flesh
I can hear the tape recording repeating in your mind
“She’s so beautiful, so succulent, so suggestible
She can’t exit until I’ve had my feast
She can’t exist if not for this moment”

“Come on darling you can’t leave yet
Drink that Bacardi Breezer I got ya’
Who ever says no to a dance?
Just let go have some fun”

Oh god they’ve made a statement with the architecture
All the lights, the screens, the luminescent
It’s insight to what’s to come, a wasteland of flicking neon
To shine the light of what’s left of our humanity
Daddy’s gotta have his meal tonight
He can’t stop hunting until a catch is between his teeth
We can debate paranoia and delusion till the day break
But the danger is real “Someone get me the fuck out of here!”

As preformed by Domestic

– Lnc0

Quality John Cooper Clarke gig last night with the other half. Such a laugh and a dead eye opening experience to like how to preform poetry on high level. Also he did all my favourite poems, brilliant

Weird to think if you told 16 year old me that I’d be going to a gig of: “That Mick Jagger one you allways see up town” I’d wouldn’t know where to look

Yesterday noon Domestic had it’s first public performance! We begged last minute and got a nice little slot at the Colchester Rise festival at The Minories between 2 poets and preformed well… the only 2 poems I’ve written for the project

But yeah public performance…. writing down them words then saying them words with my partner to people who will then listen to said words; Horrifying. But man it feels good to rip the band-aid off as it were! It’s only going to get the easier to do, the writing’s only going get better and I’m only going to get better at preforming it and jesus christ it’s great to put your foot into this world finally

My life has been guided by women
But because of them – I am a man.
God bless you mama – and thank you

“On Coming From a Broken Home (Part 2)” by Gil Scott-Heron

Just A Man

They knew you as broke-ass Baxter, from the shadows of the estate
The classic story of a candy wrapper tainting a cherry blossom garden
With your beat-up leathers and monochromed dyed trainers
And with one rouge blonde curl that no force was able to keep down
The way you teeter your cigarette left and right when the gears turn
And the little cracks in your laugh when something was especially hysterical
I always noticed them all, from the corner of the snooker hall
So when your eyes wondered trying to track down an ignition for your fag
I jumped at the chance, just for an excuse to give you my name
I can’t get enough of the way you sway in the queue
Who knows what ideas your plotting in that little mind of yours
Miles and miles away before the line starts to move
And maybe, you can take me their one day?

I snuck out by the bathroom window, on a waxing crescent moon
I met you outside the snooker club but there wasn’t much to do
So you led me through the wire traps and we end up at the coast
I perch on seaside debris, clutching the last tin you gave to me
And you begin tell tales of old sweethearts and rebellious youth
The content may of felt short, but god it’s just you just tell it so well
I push the fat of my cheeks up and make sure every inch of you is in my gaze
I couldn’t give a fuck about what your chatting, it’s just the way you tell it hon’
And maybe, I wanna listen to you everyday

My dear all your fallacies are false, can’t you see I’m just a man?
But can’t you see, your so much more then a man to me?
Well lets see if you share that opinion later on still
When you peer at me through the cracks of the door
And you catch me in the midst of an ‘um’ or an ‘err’
It doesn’t matter how much you take my fables
And stitch together An-Frankenstein’s Garfield
It’s all just a character to get excited about
Another one to exaggerate about in prose on lonely nights

How much of me do you wanna see?
I wanna see straight through you
And everything that makes you
Are you prepared to wince and sigh?
Are you prepared to not be amazed by something that makes me?
But you got me to come this far
I want to discover everything you could be
I just hope you feel the same thing for me

As preformed by Domestic

– Lnc0

Only The Obsolete Clutch

The news cut through the deepest part of me
Nights and nights spend hand in hand amidst the clean slate
Putting together our little plans and steps to glory
Reduced to plastic knifes struck in the dragons knees, in one sentence
Oh baby I couldn’t imagine spending my time without you
Buying bread knowing I’m not making you toast just seems pointless
While you rise to the next league in human evolution in another land
Looking at me in my second hand leather jacket fiddling with the pennies
Night after night you’ll forget our curbside midsummer debates
Putting the world to rights, and etching my heart in blood on the concrete
By comparison my sonnets will be reduced to a Daily Star article
My kisses will feel sliver, their greetings will feel like gold
I guess I’ll lay the final right now, may our love not end in a bang
But a whimper of the echo’s of unfulfilled promises and sweet nothings

If you feel you cannot merit your worth to me
In the midst of piles of golden spoils
Smearing my crown with the blood under my fingernails
As I stroke it from atop a platinum ladder
The that one’s all on you my dear
Kisses are timeless and sonnets scar the hippocampus
If your insecurity places a brace on your tongue
And your pride forces sorrow when you should feel joy
Then let me shed your remnants from my skin
As I take off to claims elements unknown as my own

To be preformed by Domestic

– Lnc0

Domestic

Okay doke here’s my new project: Me and my very talented other half are going to be starting a poetry duo performance together, which means me writing poetry intended to be preformed mostly by two people, this seems like such a little thing but it’s such a huge shift for my writing and tbh….. lately I’ve been churning out shit while experimenting with styles and content. But with this format it just all makes sense, like I feel like my writing has been naturally building up to this moment and yeah I hope it gives something good to read 🙂

Coming Soon…

I’ve had trouble knowing what i’m doing with my writing and artistic output in general, whenever I wrote it feels so aimless, without purpose, writing for the sake of writing, but today feels like the first time in ages I’m doing something for a reason, If what I have planned ever comes to fruition I’m so excited to share it with you guys!

Anything I’ve ever wrote has been building to this moment; a record of the trails and tribulations of the domesticated

If Kisses Mattered

My friend, we may of been allies for passing upon passing of the sun
But you shouldn’t dare shoot me a look like that in front of the cheese scones
While I unveil another tale of a romantic exploit crashing into the bushes
The way you tell me to stop pushing for 200mph on the first lap
It takes me back to an era long lost where kisses weren’t just a method
To escalate to sensual liberation but actually meant a damn all on their own

So I decide to try and spread it like the last of the butter
That’s trying to cater to a breakfast meant for 4
It may last for longer but it don’t taste nearly as sweet anymore
And that’s not even accounting the distortion in the mirrors image
The plates of my skin start to crack from my fingers like bark
Little quirks in my speech became foghorns, coughs became gunshots
When you started at me from the edge of your bed, and turned away
A ravine of sludge leaking from openings must’ve been all you could see
It’s only way my mind could make sense of things
As each passing day went us by, that we went untouched

And now I’m left here like a chorus with no subtext
I just want you to open my pores and give me context
I could be risking another wreckage for sure
But to risk censoring myself is a fate far worse
I want to lock our psyches by the pinky fingers
So while our keisters share a plot of cobble stone
Outside of a treasure map destination
I bleat a plea in a soft frequency into your ears

“Oh lady it’s just lately I’ve been feelin’ real ugly
So hook me by the folds of my skin and embrace me”