Nah

For a victim, you’re sure not above devious tactics.
But did you really think that shit would fly a 67th time?
Drip feeding your attention like it’s a show above 40 karat gold?
I’m sure we got better things to be getting on with.

So go on: What brought it on this season?
The realisation your admirers where out of sight?
Has your ego been feeling dry as of late?
Just fuckin’ bored?
Or maybe you’ve come to THAT conclusion again?
No matter how you try and drag new blood to your feelers,
The talk is small and minds are minuscule.
They have the charm of software programmers,
And the grip of a Rich Tea biscuit.
Oh they’re all so stupid compared to us, aren’t they darling?

The cheek of it, to clap your hands
And expect the patter of little feet on your inbox.
But my dear don’t you think;
That after 7 years perched on the pedestal
Maybe be a year too long with fuck all to show for it?
Do you honestly wanna make it 8?

Is it really too much to bare?
To see other people provide the things I need?

Sebastian Noël

Fishook

The quantities plentiful
But you ever given the reviews a go?
Sketched in the negative with dirt, muck and leaves
Nothing ventured and of course nothing gained
They smile and assure us ‘He’s a nice bloke’
But just reading the script aloud myself
It reads like the description of a car crash
With a dollop of cream and a cherry on top

I’ve taken to calling you Fishook
Legendary at reeling them in
But nothing of substance on offer
To keep anyone from jumping overboard

Poor little Fishook if only they understood you
Maybe if your encounters didn’t boil to a system
Like a self checkout vomiting out instructions
And they came into your little world
As if they were asteroids into your orbit
It wouldn’t be a case of method and results
It’d be a product of sweet love growing
Wouldn’t that be grand little Fishook

Lnc0

Better And Better

The arches bend, the teacups break
Just who the hell are you?
As mist pours from below her hip huggers
Directing the audience to it’s source
So damn sure, so damn keen
The mark of a bloody wolf like you’ve never seen
I rub the back of my neck nostalgically
The wounds still sting a little from our time
Cherry picking the Adonis herd sulking at the back
The kind bred to be her perfect surrogate
To see the sequel in full force is a strange thing
I was once an equal, now I’m just small time
Do you stalk the lands for another challenger?
Or are you content squishing underlings with your heel?
Either way it’s clear the spectacle will take place
In another dimension to mine

Lnc0

So Are You Just… About Now?

I just wanna swarm you like paparazzi
Cos I got so many questions to relay on to you
When exactly did you come back around?
To roam the streets and to haunt my beats?
But like a Sirens hiding the Kraken beneath her seas
Those sparkling head lights still make me weak at the knees

Could I hit the roulette on lucky 13?
And be graced with the report that you still remember me
The smile you flash as you scan my way
Implies your memory hasn’t progressed another day

Your glitz, your sleaze, the perfection of your tease
Your lips, Your curls, my minds on a downward twirl
The way you add class to every damn place
Are you sure your still of the human race?

You’ll be at awe of the abysmal excuse I’ll use
When I’ll relay a love note, with the digits I swore I’d lose
The time you’ve cameoed in my life has been slight
But now nostalgia’s grip on the synapse is tight

Lnc0

A Matter Of Time Pt. 2

Now be reasonable what was a young man ment to do?
Everyone’s femurs where getting cracked in the crossfire
It’s better one man gets broken completely then that
So I treat you like an ulcer before band practice
I took every single bullet with pride
Until I’m a corpse floating in the river to you
Did you fall for it hook, line and sinker?
Or did you see through it like a silk?

I send this reasoning in little scrolls
Drop them in the handbags of your social circle
And maybe one day it’ll come around your way
Like the back page of a crossword book
I hope it gives you all the answers your looking for
Now here’s the question that keeps up all night
Will you react with a sense of relief, the lights have gone green
Will you spit on the paper, the lights have been smashed

I know there’s probably nothing I can do
To stop the filthy glares at the bus stop
And the way you cast your rod in everyone’s pond
Just to get the hint of a nibble on the hook
I imagine your eyes light up at the thought
Of being able to bring me up in conversation again
Are you trying to drop the same scrolls to get my attention?
Or are trying to burn the soil so nothing can grow again?

You like to deny but either way, you really are like me dear

*Written For National Poetry Month – 21/30*

This poem is a sequel too this one:
http://thetartanprelude.tumblr.com/post/82818526063/a-matter-of-time

Wings

Oh it’s oh so clear to me now
I may of spent a few hundred million years
Scratching the desk and knocking over my beer cans
To cold call a league of philosophers at my door
Man the tantrums seems so silly now
When I’m arm in arm with comrades of old
Gliding down the streets screeching our anthem to the sky
Oh yeah it’s so clear to me right now

They told me I couldn’t find anything better
And too take the lashing like a good little slave
They swore it never got any better then this
I was lucky to even grab where I was by the fingertips
They promised they were right
Far be it from me to question your motives for telling me that
Is this what you have to do to people to stay confident?
I’m confident that’s the case

You had to make me feel like dirt
In order to make yourself feel alive
All I had to do start living my life
In order to make you feel like dirt

All you ever wanted to do was clip my wings
Use me to shield you from the deathray
You fired straight at the mirror
Hey no biggie I’m just damaged goods right?
Well I didn’t hear the others complain
The only one who’s complaining is you
As you lay yourself in the same mousetrap
Scrape another lover to use from the highway

*Written For National Poetry Month – 14/30*

A Matter Of Time

It always conducts a glissando up my spine
When I spot your clan tracking at my sanctuaries
I don’t claim to have the deeds to these locals, but surely you know?
I wouldn’t leave these premises just for your consideration?
Are they scouts? Sniffing for my co-ordinates?
Are you hiding in smokers planning your tactics
Using the finished cocktail glasses
As chess pieces like a military tactician

Are you under the impression I’m still enamoured with you?
I’m not saying the hypothesis isn’t true
It’s just when you find yourself stuck to me like glue
I wonder, what exactly are you planning to do?

Each heckle the dogs give me on the street,
Each Chinese whisper forcefully relayed to me
Each WooWoo beaker thrown at my head
Feels like the tick of the clock
I don’t think I could call in sick for this appointment
Not even if I wanted to
I can imagine you coming up to me at the bar now
With a familiar smile, and a view to kill

Are you under the impression I still think of you all day?
If you don’t mind I’ll keep the answer to that one at bay
But when you do decide for us to meet in your little play
I wonder, what exactly were you gonna say?

This Poem Has a squeal:
http://thetartanprelude.tumblr.com/post/83517596383/a-matter-of-time-pt-2

*Written For National Poetry Month – 13/30*

Recollection (Prelude)

I’ve known guilt and then I’ve KNOWN guilt
But I couldn’t even begin to put the term into human tongue
When you tap my back, in the middle of 90’s britpop chants
And you greet me holding a gargantuan tome
Containing your photographic memory
Try as you might to rekindle a recollection within me
As you recall the times we strolled down your road arm in arm
I hate to break your heart twice over but it only brings static

I couldn’t say I have the foggiest
I don’t remember being enamoured with your frame before
Walking down abandoned docks, eating white chocolate magnums
Was that with you? With the blue bow and dolly shoes?
I can’t think of a face nor a name
Did we kiss by Dr.Chippys? Did we make love after the fireworks show?
Did you ever lie to me that Ollie Sykes could sing, by the river?
My pockets are overflowing with snapshots, but nothing to connect them

I’ll just have to take your word for it
Guide me with your palms and make me recall

*Written For National Poetry Month – 11/30*

The Symbolism Of Silence

I think the public image of personal growth
Has been incorrectly portrayed in the confines
Of a catch up conversation between disconnected pen pals
And with it brings a very venomous drawback indeed

Oh it shows when I’m sat slouched in my chair like quicksand
Playing Glass Harmonicas with my coffee mug
Trying to pass of asking about the rotas at your work
As a deep, meaningful and interesting conversation

Like the ones we had 5 am outside the abandoned estates
Putting the world to rights, as we deconstructed and dissect
The flawed expectations of outdated mindests of all the grown ups
But now I struggle to find the words to ask how you are

The person I long to talk too they’re dead and gone
Do you agree? Do you think the same things about me?

We were lost souls in a sea of possibilities
Being barked at from every angle to breast stroke
But young lovers will always be content
With laying on their back and floating in the ocean

But now we’ve both straightened up and fallen in line
Did we lose it? The only thing that kept us nattering for hours?
Was our sense of anarchy the only thing that binded us?
Now our paths are off in opposite directions, the distance only grows

Did you forget how to give people that look in your eye
Or do you keep it on reserves just for the next one too see?

*Written For National Poetry Month – 8/30*

I Can’t Stop You From Appearing In My Dreams

It’s 3:52pm and it’s now I hear
That the broadcasts from down under reach their peak
Even I admit that’s a weak excuse
But anything to put off crawling to them sheets
Anything to stave off meeting you again
In the one place you van still Influence me
Smack in the middle of smoky storybook aspirations

Westbound to a plain of intangible letters and sentences
Only in this sector of the concious
Where desires are interpreted for temporary manias
Do you stand before me again

All grudges flow out through our pours like black tar
The hate seeps through the husk in our breaths
The spite flakes off our very skin
All I have left to remember is to how to stay betrothed to you
I was no one else’s to lose but yours my love

Utilizing my muscle memory you lock your fingers with mine
Like claws on a tow truck you whisk me away
We take a quick hike from the town centre to yours
With the parts I can’t recall replaced with golden plated bridges
Connecting my recollections together

The ingrates that poisoned you have been purged
Their mouths stitched shut to stop them from bringing you down
It’s just you and I with the audience of the washing up
There isn’t a thing to fret about
Just how the sunlight highlights your genius design

The smoke flows from the floor boards
I smear it through the threads of your scalp
You inhale it through your regulated pants
As it pours from the ducts into your irises

Trace the curves of optimum natural selection
Grasp the wrist of a submitted romantic intention
Groove to the rhythm of a calculated routine
Play it back those glossy sweet sugarcane memories

The Clock hits 9 and caresses my eyelids
The reality kicks in and the mist starts to disappear
I beg my master to release her grip from my limbs
But her grip stays aggressive just like an anchor

She sinks her claws, digging deep into my wounds
She tugs from within my arms to keep me pressed against her chest
I can’t stand the guilt, the oh so familiar sting
How naive of me, for it was me who brung you here in the first place

An interpretation that’s all you are
A reflection of the reality, with a sweeter taste
And smoothed out edges
A version of you that doesn’t berate my birth wronging
While you demand I clean the wounds on your arms
As you leave the ones under my legs wide open

The hate floods back into my veins
As if to cue the pins and needles
It flows to my profile and forces my eyes open
For another cycle I’m free from your grip
Until my eyes grow heavy and then I’m yours again