Can’t Switch It Off

Oh I can’t switch it off no more
Logged off but I can’t switch it off
Hands over my ears but I can’t switch it off
No matter where I am I can’t switch it off anymore

How I supposed to switch it off now?
When every atom belong to every form of life
Is poised to guarantee my demise
They wanna see my gasping for my life
It sleeps in every god damn person alive
So why on the fuck would I ever switch it off?

I’m supposed to just switch it off?
Repress it all and happily play patty cake?
With my fellow man, when all the evidence
Points to that they can’t be reasoned with
Anecdotal, Historical, Psychological take your pick
It all shows the hands get thrown with a guarantee
The moment naïveté infects your common sense
And you get the feeling you can switch it off

How the fuck am I supposed to switch it off?
Logged off but how am I meant to switch it off?
Hands over my eyes but I can’t just switch it off!
No one like me made this far by switching it off

Behind every smile hides a killer, so hell no am I switching it off
Just so they can slug behind me under the guise of tolerance
And they decide at the drop to switch it off permanently
So never switch that shit off, take it from me
Don’t trust any fuck under any circumstances
Less you wanna add to another statistic
That spreads the melancholy to a wider range
You keep that shit switch ON. Till your days stop.

Sebastian Noël

Logical

The sins of my ancestors become the sins of the now,
When my tongues honed where it could clash with a katana.
But my targets are the ones who pat me on the back,
Naturally the usual response to that is a stab in the back.

He opens up his chest and I’m straight on the defence,
What the fuck does he mean when he says that?
Is he trying to brush my pain aside to make a point?
He says “I mean it’s not like how you go through it.”
The fact he didn’t take a decade to proof read every sentence,
That can only be a slight against me, perfect and precise.
So how about I take my drink and show him 2 fingers,
The most logical course of action to that.

He scratches the record to a screeching halt,
“What the fuck’s the matter?” He intervenes.
I wanna tell him how’s he’s not seeing me,
But who on the earth is seeing me,
If me hasn’t been me for this long,
Are they even me, is me even me anymore?
“I dunno.” As I stall for for some amount of time.
He came to this war with a bouquet and I still grazed him.

That’s the catch 22; I’m not seeing him,
A few Thyroids short and I’m not seeing anyone.
I’m seeing words and phrases that I’m trying to recognise,
Clutching my bug-net looking for the bogeyman.
THERE! I know someone who talked to me like that,
A past abuser from a eon gone by.
You thought that’d one would slip by me?
“What have I done to be suspicious?” He asks.
What you’ve done? Well you’ve done nothing,
But everyone at one point done nothing,
Until they start to do something,
And out of nowhere they’ve done everything.

Burn a bridge on a hunch,
Carjack your heart out on a probably,
I’m so dependant on the kindness of others,
While still backed up against the wall.
When a scratch goes down like decapitation,
You can’t take any chances on that.
Treat my company like a rental,
One wrong move it’s revoked from you.
“How can I be expected to love someone
Whose hand is always circling the eject button?”
Like I dunno man, but what’s the alternative?
Cos I’m getting too old to nurse another wound,
When it’s week 2 chained to my bedroom,
Keeping my psyche together with PV glue,
As yet another chance to succeed is doomed.
Another degree flies on by, another career down the drain,
The hand outs will stop, and I’ll be marking my grave.

– Sebastian Noël (For Mental Health Awareness Week)

Don’t Fret

Could he, would he, should he, might he
The diagrams never seem to match reality
A submerged clue to the mystery of adultery
Or just the aimless flight of youth?
No matter how much you dig through the wardrobes

So don’t fret darling, don’t fret
Cos it’s not like you’ll accept the truth
If it comes to you in any other way
So don’t fret darling, don’t you fret
Just close those weary eyes, and hope
You might open up your third eye one day

What if you found the key in his trainers
And unleashed the swarm from Pandora’s Box?
Would it detract from the overall objective
The security of the cuddles and kisses come moonlight
What value could the truth hold for you
When ignorance is your only path to bliss

Lnc0

Confused For The Sake Of Being Confused [2016 Remake]

For a romantic debut, I think I could’ve done better
Just to think, nary 2 nights ago we were rolling in the mud
Exerting hot air with no substance to it what so ever
But does it matter? Two teeny bopers shooting the shit
Aiming nothing substantial to be immortalised in the stars
I can’t think of nothing more beautiful in hindsight

Such a cosmic contrast to a classic Essex bust up
Hanging on the thread of another request to be put on hold
Twiddling my toes, finding ways to kill time
While a flood of possibilities pass me by the roadside
Did you do it in the cubicles? Or in the cinema?
Fantastic ways to waste your time on the weekend
I’ve no doubt your trading sucker punches with another fella
Already a jab on it’s own, but the part that really stings
Is the confirmation that love wasn’t the motive to this crime
You just could, that’s it

I try to put it to the back of my mind
This is my first love, and maybe I just don’t know any better
Maybe everyone goes through this too! It’s just process
That’s the key I use to get out of this prison
I’ve curated for myself with absolute precision
With every imagine conjured up designed to incite anguish

So I get my coat and stroll out
The evening’s air has done nothing but aid me thus far
And then I’m greeted by a gorgeous sight
The sight of you patrolling the night with him round the bend
We exchange the looks
I want to scream out, but my mouths locked tight
It’s the restraints I used to lock myself back in the prison
But not before I turn my head to check what I had seen
To check that’s it’s really the end
It’s agony

So I’m back to serving my sentence
Except my imagination’s become fact
A buzz on the phone
The sounds of a moan
I think I knew it all along
But confusions a great delaying tactic ain’t it?

Lnc0

————————————————————————-

As hinted at above, this poem is a remake, infact it’s a remake of THE VERY FIRST POEM I EVER ‘PROPERLY’ WROTE. I’ve never posted it cos y’know Tumblr wasn’t a thing in my life in 2007, but here it is, written by 17 year old me in all it’s embarrassing glory:

By the time the moon has made the lap another 2 times
Your off slinging your hooks with some other guy
To think 2 rotations ago i was sure you was mine
But now i’m a victim of change and at the mercy of why

I wanna be at home and to go alone
I’m not sure anymore
From When to Who and Why and back to Where
I’m shrouded in doubt

Doubt that love was ever the motive behind this most henious crime

I’m strolling about the town again, to find a preaty sight
The sight of you and 2 other guys patroling round the bend
We exchange the looks;
sad in
glad out
but the mouths are shut tight
I turn my head for one last check, to check it’s realy the end

I wanna be close and i wanna be away
I’m not thinking anymore
I rush back home, but i’m feeling regret in confort
I’m left wanting more

So i sit here, on the night alone, only with a brew to call my own
A buzz on the phone
The sounds of a moan
Just please, i need a minuite alone

You can’t put me down for being mad for wearing this frown
It’s just that i can’t bealive i was up aginst half the fucking town

[17 year old] Lnc0

Paranoia Blues

Be it the oxygen count or the chemtrails in my tea
But the paranoia’s creeping above it’s climax
I could regulate with mental stimuli any day you like
Except today’s the day I met the love of my life

Constantly wrestling with the grit in her teeth
An attitude as rotten as summers milk on xmas
Stenched with a coalition of an underbellies delight
Everything I could ask for in a lovers highlight

She brings me over to ask for the time
While surrounded by Dahli’s Compilation
There’s been no excuse weaker, adorably see through
She takes my paw to administer a mixtape disco
Each drip of audio more familiar then the last
Bit-crushes her sways into technicolour video

Her whispers hints
Her yelps imply
And by the time we’re collapsed on someone’s acre
Met by the silver lined abstract above
Her confession reveals all
As we make physical calculations
She wraps around any semblance of form
Tells me she never wants to orbit another
Ah if only I wasn’t convinced it was all a lie

Is there any interaction as misleading as conversation
Everyone’s carrying a hunger on their backs
Everyone’s got a profit margin to hit
All in my packs is a lump of scars
So even when my love peeps into my eyes
The only conclusion present; is that it’s all a lie

Lnc0

Poor Daisy

I wish I could say it straight to you
Why I feel like I have to get behind the curtains
And then disappear in a splash of doves in front of your eyes
Why I bring attention to the flaws in my psyche
Only to keep the explanations under a timed unlock
Why I ripped out my hair, over the buzzwords in your greetings
Before acting like nothing had happened to following day
And I dismiss all the above with “You haven’t caught me on a good day”

But it matters not how much of a heart a gold Daisy has
A human can only tolerate so many questions thrown their way
Especially if someone’s ripped all the answers out from the back
Daisy stops making the effort to come and see me
Daisy stops telling me that she thinks the world of me
Daisy stops wanting me to hold her hand in the street
Daisy starts to detonate the dynamite whenever she can
Make the very earth around us shatter and sink into the ground
Puts me at the very forefront of domestic carnage itself
Daisy smashed my nose, Daisy smashed my copy Pokemon
Daisy slashed the ropes that kept this bridge hanging, Daisy slashed herself
All in thin hope she could goat me into something resembling a reaction
But as much as I rummaged in my pockets for a spare one, I couldn’t provide
All I could fine was a spare 3.50 in coppers and nuggets
Perfect to walk out the door and leave her self-destructing
In the pursuit for one more gin and tonic and maybe a pint of pale ale
And maybe if I keep pumping it into my body and rummage around my head
I could find something resembling an emotion, But I couldn’t find one

*Written For National Poetry Month – 26/30*

Technical Forfeit

*Another one I wrote when I was a littlun found in an old college notebook from… I’m guessing I was 19?*

The glimmer of the screen on a Thursday afternoon
The burn of my skin as the projection seeps in
Drenched in a sea of anxity as the clock ticks
It’s only a matter of time untill we’re done for

She can’t undertsand the burden of the schedule
The fatcats havn’t prossesed the transition
I wish i could shower you with tickets and promises
But the accounts as empty as my heart

If the connections become severed you need to act
Send her a messege, send her a code, send her a reply
Cos if you don’t she will tear you appart from the inside
And the moment shall only be postponed

You must let the technical use you, you can’t let feeling win
You must know the technical, it can only know
Feeling will lie, feelings on her side, don’t forfit by default
You can’t lose on technicality, it’s all you’ve got now

A words like art are objective in this world
I would murder for the one chance to explain with words
Text is a mere image i can’t explain it anymore so
The divide shall only grow in time, interpritation is not on my side

What i’d do to be blessed by that golorius image
Of the green dot to terraform to the dotted bubble
These hours of scilence, have set my time in ice
Maybe you’ve understood, what i’ve been fighting for

Never Before Have I Been So Relevent (W.I.P)

They set up land-mines and trip wires in the bar
Wetting their lips as they never avert their gaze from the door
All in hopes I’ll set off a C4 and set the place on fire
As my bloody corpse drops to their feet, so they can bring me up again
They’re like fish nibbling the flakes of my skin
In the Mediterranean all to just to be relevant in my legacy

Weather I’ve traced my hands through their very concious
Or I’ve just brushed past them in the college corridors
They’ll crush their spines to bend over backwards
Just to bring me up in conversation once again
The females love to recount old fables
Fictitious tales of the tyrant that barged in their lives
The males quake in their boots, hold their misses tighter
Spewing what if’s of my skull breaking on the curb

Bitches can’t get enough of the Switzer-man
Bitches can’t get enough of the Switzer-man

My vacancy means so little to their theories
I’m rocking it at another party with the unknowns
I could care less if you see me as a ballistic missile
It’s not like you’d ever break your monotonous weekend routines
To ever come and find me

Bitches can’t stop talking about the Switzer-man
Bitches can’t stop talking about the Switzer-man
Bitches can’t stop talking about the Switzer-man
Bitches can’t stop talking about the Switzer-man

I’ve never set foot in this dive, for half a year
And yet my name still echoes through the mugs themselves
No matter how many mousetraps they try to set up
And distribute them with Chinese whispers throughout my friends
I’d never set foot in this dive, not for another half a year
I got better things to do, then to satisfy your obsessive curiosity
I have no place here with the mildew of the town

I wish I’d never step foot in the sun
Just stayed at home where the mention of my name
Actually means a damn

Editors note: When preforming this live, I fully intend to replace ‘Bitches’ with naming and shaming the Boys and Girls who don’t stop yaking about yours truly

Panic In The Evening

I feel like a hoodlum standing outside a memorial
With cans of neon lit paint in my backpack
Complimented by a small armies worth of explosives
Ready to set hell on a beloved artefact with my insignia
All to quell my impulsive decisions

Yeah, that’s how I feel right now
When your perched upon my mattress in the afternoon
With the slits in my curtains raining on your skin
Showing just how perfect your design really is
Each curve tailor made to my exact specifications
Each imperfection made to compliment your excellency
Laying my grubby fingers upon you now
Would be the worst fucking crime I could conceive
Like rubbing grease all over a Mozart sheet

I just wanna die
If it means I can cower out of this mess
Run for the hills before I poison you anymore
Your flying with angels on pale light nights
And I’m greasing the gears behind the scenes
Please just pull the trigger and leave for good

As I continue to deface your form even more
You permit my ascension to the sacred place
The fumes starts to slowly creep inside of me
I start to hear the taste of each bead of sweat
As it tunnels into the folds of my mind
I can’t feel the guilt I should be
I can’t feel anything anymore
You don’t deserve this, not even for a second
I can only provide a fraction of what you deserve
Olympians soaring from the coast docking on Clacton’s shores
Travelling from miles on end just to get a glimpse
Of that smile on your lips