Tag: colchester

This is myfavvy photo from ‘Every Rumour Is True’ because I think it encapsulates what the entire book is about.

This one comes from fan favourite poem ’14/02/16 – And A While Prior’ and if you recall that was dedicated to a specific lady. I remember having some great memories with her, one that always comes back is we were walking from mine back to hers, and as we’re passing near Bridge Bar area, we see some construction going on, specifically like a huge crane with a box full of heavy construction stuff and they were going to drop it on a spot. So we just sat that chatting and chilling waiting for a good 30 minutes for this huge ass box too, drop. Then it did and it was pretty neat.

Thing is trying to recapture that photo as seen bellow is impossible, the constructions gone and the student flats built, the image despite being so intricately tied to the writing is now irrelevant, alien, foreign. The testimony is all the evidence that the moment even happened, to me that’s the entire book, bathing in nostaglia despite the fact the very town itself has moved on, trying to convince people Colchester used to be something else before it’s what it is now. The ultimate goodbye to the town I’ve loved so dearly…. but it’s time I moved on too

Every Rumour Is True

I hate to admit it’s the case
But maybe it’s time to vacate
Resort to a back tracking slate
And join those who told me so late

They said Colchesters beyond repair
And all it ever breeds is despair
But was that always the script?
I feel like I’ve given up on you
Your’s was the pristine setting
Of a spotless prime time family sitcom
I would’ve let go of so much ambition
Just to be cast in that security
But why didn’t you want it too?
Every attempt leads me to be refused
I rip the canvas apart to be true
But your content to leave me black and blue
The vacant stares, the missed messages
The short talks, the disappearing effort
You never used to turn down my love
What on earth’s changed, to earn your disdain?

I just want to time travel my soul
My morals, My outlook, My cells
Back to walks in the forest
And awfully planned picnics in the park
In the pouring 4AM rain, just passing the sunset
Eating peanut butter sandwiches in the shade
Who was that with? Krissy, Rosie, Nikki?
I don’t know anymore
Their faces have degraded into blanks
The memories are becoming fabrication
Who’s memories am I stitching together?
They feel like strangers in my own remembrance

Tears are making a comeback in my eyes
Cos the town I’ve loved with all my heart
It doesn’t recognise me anymore
It wants me out, It can’t stand the sight of me
I’ve happened upon your corpse wondering Yomi
Your face twisted and contorted
Am I a foreign object, pollen to be excreted?
Cos that’s exactly how it feels
Apathy poisoning my pours
My skin dries and my heartbeat slows to a crawl

Colchester… I don’t recognise you anymore
I don’t feel as safe on your soil like before
This love isn’t healthy, for a creature of my imagination
I need out of you, as much as you need me out too

Sebastian Noël

Out

I don’t wanna sound stuck up, but I gotta get out of here
My price tag overlaps the lot I find myself in
Not a class worth, but the value of the soul
I’m surrounded by corpses you see, in Sunday school

Colchester to Chelmsford to Southend
Not exactly the escape to New York City is it?
But it feels a substantial upgrade to fuck all
I can’t get on board with anyone here
Or maybe it’s better to say they’re not on board with me
And any previous investors are already hitting the trail

I’m under no illusions, course I’m running from myself
And the ghosts that constantly haunt me come Friday night
Haven’t the foggiest what I’m expect to find elsewhere
But maybe coming up with nothing is the better guarantee anyway

The vital stat re-roll, the pull of the slots
Maybe here people’s hearts are a slight ajar
Whatever their offering, hell I got the cash to spare
Maybe with a new head on my shoulders, things will be different
When the pain invades, they could materialize everytime!
Tongue will be parchment and a breach will cost
Cheeky to say, but maybe I’ll change in the same way
No ghosts, I’ll treat everyone right
In that way maybe I am different from the others
I come with no attachment to my current form, that shit’s gotta go

Sebastian Noël

I can’t believe there’s no local events for people alone on xmas day outside of homeless shelter stuff (Which I’m unqualified to help in sadly) like it can’t just be me there has to be other people who need it? When I inevitably steal the deeds to a pub one day that’s my first act

Damn just came back from my local poetry groups last meeting! Which ended in an amazing poetry slam, god fuck man Colchester really does have some stellar tallent in it’s underbelly and it’s nice to just appreciate all the great people and poets we have here

Also first slam I’ve been too were the winner wasn’t x-factor friendly pusedo-urban bullshit? And actually was won by someone who deserved it, so that’s nice

Real Rage [Version 1 – Ongoing]

Now that I have your attention ladies and gentleman
Ooohhh…. Where do I even begin?
With all the mountainous amount of ways
That when I see you out and about with that cheeky boy grin
You make the bile rise up to my gullet
As you wink at the guys and give them a high-five
And you leave the infected flakes on your lips with the girls
It makes me question the point of staying alive
You wear your Topman 2 for 10 tailor suit like an Armani
And the musk of new Lynx decaying pheasant acting as your aura
Your hair’s slicked backed, the cherry on top of shredding your humanity
Thought I feel it’s missing one thing, a healthy dose of inflicted gore… -a
When your up in the bar roaring and howling
About that girl you ‘had’ in the bushes to your mates
Taking each act of humiliation like a trophy on your wall
As your bros’ grip put cracks in their drinks as they hold back the hate
Because of course none of it happened did it?
So I would start on about how you rape innocent girls
But that would imply that when they set there eyes on you
They don’t take the first taxi home and fucking hurl
Two Sambuca’s and Setlla’s hence since
Your breath starts to smell like Jack Daniel’s piss
You ask a pair of ladies if they are of celestial decent
As they start to head towards the door since I think they got the gist
You just can’t take “Fuck off you Republic dwelling troll” as an answer
You treat a grope of the arse like a personality quirk
I imagine she wants a skin graft operation after that
So that the feeling of your sweaty hairy palms doesn’t lurk
How could they not fall for you? Fall under your spell?
When you scream at them, calling them a skank
There must be god, if atleast you always walk home alone
Your night ends with tears, Vaseline, Eastenders and disappointingly short wank
I hope one day a young woman’s lad catches you in the act
And he downs you with just one nads-aiming punt
And as he leans down, he identified you for what you are
A cunt

– Lnc0

Domestic Gig Announced! (20/12/2014)

Hey guys and gals, any of you Colchester natives free on the 20th of December, we are doing something of a ‘Comeback gig’ at the USOL Festive Due at Slack Space! Below is a link to the Facebook event (Sorry they have no other online presence).

https://www.facebook.com/events/1513684335575417/

Also side from us there will be a local flute artist and local comedians! I know the phrase ‘local comedians’ usually sends shivers down peoples spine, but trust me they are hilarious, and Richard Dawkins is definitely going to be there

– Lnc0

GHOULCHESTER!

There’s no two ways around it tonight was their night
On the 31st all the creeps and ghouls
Hop on to the sixty-fear on head street
The one the mortals though was lost in the great crash of ‘87
It flashes the ticket to the headless driver and shuffles to the back
Colchesters cream of the crop are showing up for the festivities tonight
The whitest ghosts around the abandoned estate
The zombies who’s mothers could still recognize them
And it’s not feeling so assured after a glimpse of the company
Frankenstien assured it before it left, that he made a looker
Made from only the finest people that have died within the last year
The cheekbones and abs of the slickest men
The silky hair and the thighs of the most luscious of ladies
It just crossed what could be interpreted to be fingers
And hoped it’d slip into the background

All the skeletons are chatting their teeth to the jams
A mixtape of Nick Cave, The Cramps, Bauhaus
The mummies are showing off their new designer wraps
The wolf men are showing off the kind of guns
A huntsman could only hope to fight him with
While the harpies stroke his fine coat
Dropping feathers he snarls nothings in her ears
Meanwhile the Jiangshi’s saving face out the back
Complaining how the ableist scum inside friendzoned him
While the socially awkward swamp monsters
Pet the house chimera in the corner

She spots it’s hunched physique from across the room
The proceeds to say goodbye to her fellow Alraune on the wall
Introduces herself to the monster as Ssalucard
Classicly it fucks up the introduction
No matter how much it corrects itself
She’ll always know him as Frank-I-dillies monster

Their’s no way in hiding the fact that’s she’s keen
Although if it’s theories are reality remains to be seen
She smuggles into her vial of blood a shot of JD
Thus heightening the guarantee
She flashes her fangs after she takes a sip
The proceeds to play the janitor with her tongue

She grabs it’s arm and damn near pulls the stitches off
As Jack The Ripper by Screaming Lord Sutch starts to play
They brushed past the nymphs and the sprites
That where playing pranks on the dance floor
The will-o-wisp illuminate the dancefloor
Inbetween the Dybbuks and the Golems
They shimmied the floor into submission
While never taking their gaze of each other

They wondered outside of the club together
By this point the Wolfmen and Anubis
Are barking at eachother in the taxi queue
While the Mandrake girlfriends cry to split them up
Knowing when a party’s over
They head to the pumpkin patch

The vamptress lead it through the vegetation
Dodging the awkward Jack-O-Lanterns
Getting it on like they were blending with the environment
…They weren’t
They sat down underneath the Zaccoum
She takes it’s hand, runs her finger down the stitches
Looks into it’s eyes
“Hey, stay with me Frankie”

– Lnc0

Acting Submissive/Domineering With The Clubbers Of Colchester

You don’t have to yell at me so loud
Why’d you have to shriek at me so fucking loud?
I’m trying my hardest to have a good time and crack a smile
I’m trying my hardest to juice a bit of joy from this car wreck
But in the midst of this gaggle of boars
But in the midst of this murder of scavengers
The type that prey on the wandering fawns
The type that pick apart the scraps of poor lost lambs
Who have lost the sparkle in their eyes
Caked in petrol station cologne, it’s a sickening sight

I see you spread out in the back of the bar like a corpse
I wish I could obey the green lights at the racetrack
But I can’t find the heart to reach out and take it
You slump in your seat as if inviting me to do the same
I was born with more class then that love
And besides what exactly have you done to sell me on the act?

Oh and you make your disappointment in my discomfort known
All you’ve done is make your disappointment in my boredom known
If I had a penny for every time I was under criticism
If I had a penny for every time I came under criticism
Cos’ I didn’t know the way to be a real man
Cos’ I refused to fall in line for the male stereotype
I’d of ran for the taxi home to save you the embarrassment
I’d of brought you a taxi home, just to get you out of my sight

I wish I could tear your focus away from your phone screen
Trying to gather the scraps of a good night out
You shell out a drug lords daily paycheck
To sit your arses in the in the side of the club
Snapping evidence of having a good night out
To justify your empty wallet the next day
I just want to grab you by the wrist, and pull you up
Into the phantasm of the violet lights
And dance the dread away, loosen up them thighs
But oh my god I’m falling asleep
Run your hair inbewteen my fingers
And plant the sweetest embrace
But you’ve lost your willpower you just want to sink into the seats
I left my mothers womb 22 years ago to have fun
So why is it such a trail to get you on the dancefloor
Lets put them litres of booze in us to good use!

Oh please let me go!
Oh please let me free!
I can’t stand to see you like this any more
I can’t stand to put up with this any more
You fidget and squirm like a child in a push-chair
We just aren’t comfortable together it would seem
There’s more to life drinking and planting evidence for it
Get a hobby, get a life, get a fucking clue
I didn’t mean to be such a disappointment
I wish you weren’t such a disappointment
I didn’t mean to make you so sad
I wish you didn’t make me so mad
I didn’t mean to fail you as a man
I wish you’d just let me be myself, instead of a ‘man’
Maybe it’ll be better if I just went home
Maybe it’ll be better if you just fucked off?

As Preformed By Domestic

A Domestic re-write of two previous poems I wrote:
– http://thetartanprelude.tumblr.com/post/84960870662/acting-submissive-with-the-clubbers-of-colchester
– http://thetartanprelude.tumblr.com/post/84961086712/acting-domineering-with-the-clubbers-of-colchester

– Lnc0