Tag: domestic

Inie/Outie

Fuck the introspection, fuck the self-obsession
Fuck the “Her head behind the sunrise, what a beautiful sight”
Can’t stand to stare at my reflection for so long
Now the written word’s looking a lil’ stale
Seems backwards don’t it? Charging 2 quid at the door
To stare at me, while my back is turned
Then I sit down, Peroni in hand
As 4 classically trained wordshits do the same

The irony being this is my first little introspect ditty
Ever since I wagged on the crush poetry thing
A party trick disguised as an act of devotion
Channelling a Borderline’s obsession into a possession
You can show it to your friends, your neighbours if you must
It’s not healthy, but I must do as a poet must
I talk like I’m above it all
But you can expect anthology nostalgia, volume 6, 2024
What I’m getting at is: Scribes were meant for more than this
I can live through shit so my peers don’t gotta

I’m sharing a coffee as a means to prolong the weekend
With a enlistee of Generation Y.5
She describes a trap; harmless in it’s aesthetics
But malicious in it’s construction
It’s not unlike a blood pact, your DNA’s been swallowed
You’re a part of the family now, you’ve entered a contract
And I got flags honey, I can reach into my bag
Throw you flag after flag after flag
But you can’t put it to a binary, but it’s all familiar
He’s staring you down behind the house red
Split the bill, as long as you pay for the starters
You let a smidgen of trauma slip the tongue
“You’re family’s trash?” He say “Well you’re ours now”
Clear your books, introduce you to his accountants son
You’re the daughter they never had, an asset
Killed you with kindness, decisions now come with considerations
Not just he, but he mam, he dad, he dad’s co-worker
There’s no lock and key, but your fate is sealed

I wanna tell you that, but I’ll tell you in verse
Cos coming out with it does nothing to help
It implies motives that are non-existent
My heart’s taken, my libido’s not a factor
But where would that leave you even after I drop the first flag?
I tell you what I’ll do, I’ll phase it out
Not over hours, but over generations
I’ll write the hypothetical, inspire an idea
I won’t even hand you the saw, you won’t need it
My bars and rhymes will kick your mind
It’ll go feral, you’ll bite the chains of the cuffs
It’ll come to you, snap, like instinct
You’ll go coyote; savage, beaming, powerful
That’s some scribe to enrich the soul
It’s not about me, it’s about how me
How me, can take me, and make the masses see
A tendril up there back, a gag entering their gobs
Take back the timeline they tried to rob
So if I walk into a murder scene come next week
Blood on the wall, claw marks on the door
And a free woman, a free man, centres in the battle field
Then whether I succeed, crash or fail, fuck it, it was worth it

Sebastian Noël

Never really saw this blog or any of my poems or projects as a part of a brand before. I guess I just do my do and see how do. But I think people gravitate more towards content of any kind if they see someone’s proud enough of it they put their seal and identity into like that? I think I need to take this poetry malark way more seriously, re-launch Domestic as my personal brand. God knows where it could take me

He’s Not Always Like This

You’re not the only thing in your orbit anymore
But you’d never catch that with a still life of us
Sullen eyebrows and penny drop silences
Hypnotised spouses and distress signals
I try to break through the atmosphere with choking
Inquires and concerns squeeze through a closed windpipe
But I get the feedback of a crackle in a crash site
We’re joint at the hip, but I’m so alone

I make the same impact entering your vicinity
That a knock knock joke makes at a funeral
The disinterest is making me dip dye into madness
Nothing baits it more then your own thoughts echoing off the wall
I need to start taking chemistry on the side
Cos I don’t know which formula hidden in the air
Turns my cries for help into a defensive reaction from you
Each outstretched arm like a knife in your hide
Each yearn for affection; a threat to your precarious ego
Not when your bacon is smeared on these support beams
The change of oil, scented candles, a premium dota account
Like fuck should I dare take that way from you
So I guess I’ll sit back and take in the atmosphere
We locked ourselves in here, but I’m still so alone

I just really like you
About as much as you’ve become sick of me
I keep liking you more and more
Maybe at the same rate of you become weary of me
We’re on route to be betrothed, but I’m so alone

I miss giving rasberries on your neck
I miss tickling the inside of your palms
I miss neglecting the stars for a full view of you
I really like you, but I’m so alone

Now I have no idea where I am
Leaving a leeches impression on his neck
Leaving a tally with my nails on the toilet cubical
I feel weird
My skin feels like it’s peeling off my arms
As he runs his fingers down my silhouette
My spit feels foreign, My tears feel like waste
And as I whisper worship to him, he breathes life into me
I don’t know him and he can do it, anyone can
Anyone who isn’t you can breathe life into me
I don’t like him, but now I feel I’m in reality again
I feel so weird

I can’t stand missing you, when I see you everyday
I reek of substance and perspiration
But it’s still not enough to raise an octave out of you
A nod, a twitch if I’m lucky, and then back to null
I feel super weird, I feel like I wanna die
I take his 50 and your old parka
I take anything I call my own into a bag
I dodge tear stains and haste together a cliff note
“Fuck you
Anyone could do it and you choose not too
Just fuck you!”
I jump into his car and make a dive out of your field
You’re the only thing in your orbit now
But did you even notice anything different
Can anyone else do it too?
Now I’m across the toll booth
I feel so fucking weird
Now I’m really alone
And now I don’t know what I feel…

October Poetry Month 1/31

Breaking Annual Tradition

Poka dot fastens, dolly shoes, white cozy warmers,
Outdated leather 2 for 15 leather belt, rapidly aging boat shoes,
Dime store bracelets and local band memorabilia,
A pile of evidence of the experiences and locals we’ve met in our lives
Reduced to a corusework final piece collage scattered on my floor
A rump and bump on the surface, a vial to survive inside

They look you up and down in disgust
They leave you to rot in the chambers
They cry when your not there at seconds notice
They groan when your insecure
They treat you like a whore
They rape you in the forest
Then they expect you to jump when they clap cos they’re bored
You hide behind a smile, why did you never tell me this before?

Don’t relent, don’t hold back
Paint me with every inch of your pain
Dig your nails into the cracks of my head
Smash your hips into my stomach
Crash your fist into my face
Paint disappear with my blood
Before pulling me up to chew into my throat
Discard me on to the carpet
Scream at me, demand some answers
Why? Why? Why are you treated this way?
What did you do? What have you done?

I come back to life and root my palms
Into the meadows of your hair
I place myself in between those gorgeous lips
And perform an improvised acapella
In a thin hope It could convey my devotion
Lets break the annual tradition
It looks like our little ceremony can’t wait
Lets pull up the bubble around us
Pretend there’s no world outside
Just our little council owned sanctuary
Not until you recalculate your value
Each step you take here puts me in the red
Each kiss you lay on my skin, is a villa sold
Each sway you perform on this frail body
That’s another European state in debt

Until that invoice is etched into your mind
We’ll drink as much Capri-Suns
And watch as many pastel overflows
Listen to as many Bubblegum drop hits
As your heart desires
You can stay nestled in my chest
And absorb the beats of my heart
For as long as you need

A follow up to ‘Lets Make This Annual’

– Lnc0

Hateful Sonatta

You are the honey in my cardiac arrest
You are the Taffy in my asphyxiation
You are the sugar in my hypothermia
You are the chocolate in my haemorrhaging
Each drop that lands on my fingers
Sends me each shuffle closer to expiration
Each fragment you rip of me
Gathers dust on a pile in the basement
You are the maggots in my Granny Smith
You are the mildew in my bathroom suite
You are the cancer in my major graduate
You are the salmonella in my bake sale
Each trace of poison I carry in me
Get’s charitably shared throughout my community
Each glimmer of light I spy inside you
Turns into a siren light by the cliff-side
Yet each chance I get to side step you
I choose to play ignorant
What else is there to do on a Sunday afternoon
After staring bug eye’d at the window, ogling buffoons

– Lnc0

Coast Crush

Cat’s eyes, a bow, emerald earnings and a rabbit tooth necklace
A black dice bracelet, a Minnie Mouse pin,
A goats skull tattoo, and a pitch black dose of Manic Panic
Just some of the tools you use to fish-hook my attention in the cafeteria
As the light ricochets from your jade skull ring
And preforms a calypso radiance, through the rabble and catches my eyes

2 set’s, a drama class and a lack of knowledge of Manson’s discography
The only things that separated us from beyond the nod in the hallway
The wit of the tongue spies a cobblestone path through mutual friends
And drunkenly made brothers, that was laid out before me
But if I ever got to your door how could I captivate you?
A lexicon of lullabies and artistry vs. a note left on the fridge

But I can’t keep my mind out of the picture show
A 24 hour double feature of maybe’s and possibles
Of spending 3.50 on a return to the coast
Cross-legged in your room in our Sunday Best
Sing-songing along to Nicole Dollganger
Under the porcelain surveillance of your doll collection
And your lemon and lime bearing predecessor
Gulping down the sour taste of the looming Pythagoras homework

You could send that weary neck off to lunch for a while
Put my shoulder blades to the test outside the tourist trap
Comparing toy capsule trinkets and penguin bar one liners
Turning a blind eye and letting the weekend roll away
Maybe I could ignite the Stella bottle and make you a fireworks show
Ignoring the niggling boundaries of reality
Maybe we could take the next coach out of town
Ignoring the fact this is all still a day dream
I never left the screening, still stuck to the chewing gum in my seat
No amount of accidental bumps between lessons can turn this into a documentary

A documentary that would end with a stroll from the Cod-boy And Son’s
After spending my mum’s bus money on rounds of Soul Blade
And onslaught of red hue revealing the lizard contacts in your eyes
As we pick up the pace, your way to outrun the curfew
Spend the rest of the night sing-a-longing to Nicole Dollganger
“Yeah my baby has a baby, but it’s not me”

A peanut butter sandwich and Yazoo milkshake later I get out my seat
Slogg my arse empty handed to get grilled in double science
We pass glances at the exit, as you head to double drama
Swallow another day where we stay as we are: Strangers

– Lnc0

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

Christmas Shopping [W.I.P Ver.1]

I turn my head to the tidal waves in the ceiling
I play a game of Dig Dug with the pipes
With sprites that just aren’t there in the mortal plane
Sunglasses toting tennis balls armed with 45’s
Firing lemons at the purple ball clan
I think it says something about your psyche
If you lose in you’re fictional arcade game
That’s pre-determined in your own head
Is it a sign of my own lack of confidence
To carry out the convictions in my life
Do I just assume I will fail in any task I take on?
Or is it a statement that try as I might
I cannot overcome the will of the masses?
And actually… Why have I put myself in a situation
Where I would even think about this tat?

Picture if you DARE a decaying charity shop
Wrestling for dominance in between the temptress
Of the stench of fresh ginger bread coming out the over
And the harmony of the latest electronic fairytales
Forced to be ensnared as a spectator
Bound to a cm ledge by the window
That’s like a blade digging right into the snug of my erase cheek
It’s the only thing reminding me that I’m still alive in this limbo
As I watch my betrothed repeat another contradiction

“I thought you said you wanted plaid clothes?”
“Yeah but this particular number has a thicker collar
Which of course recontextualizes the entire thing
Changing it’s status in the flow of modern fashion
From something that obeys the current trends
To something you could infer satires and glorifies them
From an outsiders point of view”

I wish someone would recontextualize me
Changing my status from the flow of modern fashion
From something that obeys the current trends
To something you could infer satires and glorifies them
From an outsiders point of view
And by that I mean punch me in the face, slit my throat,
And burn the corpse via a holy ritual
So that even my ghost doesn’t have to endure this shopping spree any more

“We have many factors to consider young patron
If I were to make a transaction of funds
For which context sensitive scenarios
It would be appropriate to utilize the piece I have in front of me
But considering the possibility that next time at Jan’s
There could be a recreation of the seven plagues of Moses
Right in the middle of shropshire! COULD HAPPEN!
Then if that where to occur it would blend with the colour of the shoes
Unlike if I wore the same ones in Blue that I have at home”

I would moan, but I can’t say I was any better
Switching back and forth in the record store
Between the Record Store day 2012 exclusive single
With the version of the obscure B-side that came with Frosties boxes
That’s 12.4 seconds longer with a slightly different flute
Or the other super rare vinyl with the outtakes
Of hit 2013 radio single, which is just the singer humming the baseline
Clearly both treasures would come into my possession
But with a agonizing week long wait in between
A 40 minute session of deciding was very warranted
It’d of been 45 but I do have them both on mp3 so it’s fine
…I feel it was just, why did my companion look so annoyed?

As preformed by Domestic

– 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