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Outdated leather 2 for 15 leather belt, rapidly aging boat shoes,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

Let’s Make This Annual

thetartanprelude:

As if on cue, the second the sun hits the earth
The barricades collapses and the messages begin
I think it’s time to dip into the life savings
And think about showing my face around your town again

As much as I’ve dearly missed, hearing the little cracks in your voice
There was no way to open communication, at any other time of the year
Education you see, she is a cruel mistress
She yanked the chain around your neck, whenever you came near
With such little time you’d never slink under your fella’s radar

But all that fades from the grey matter
The second I step off that train
With that grin of yours greeting me
Then it becomes clear
That summer has only just started

You start to lose track of the days, after the third night of haze
Waking up on the floor, With your head resting on someone’s door
But the back pains are worth it in the end
When you open your eyes with your head nested in my chest

I would’ve emptied my bank account and paid, just to live in this moment till my grave
With fingers travelling through your hair, I kiss your head as we move to the chairs
I know I couldn’t be the only one during them late Friday nights
Perched on the edge of my bed watching the calendar for this day

How can this feeling ever be considered wrong?
Spread on fields of green in each other’s arms
Come here, I’ll make you forget all about him
If you just take me back four years

My summer can’t begin until I’ve seen you
My year can’t move on until I’ve held you
My winter gets colder when you’re not in it
My life’s a little more dull when you’re not a part of it

I went to try and re-write this one today and thought “Fuck it, kinda nailed it first time” :L

– Lnc0

Let’s Make This Annual

The Inconvenient Youth [Aggy first draft]

Oh man you hate me don’t you?
I feel the tremors your golden plated artificial organs
You look at me on the street like a living cancer
Toting rags we’ve masqueraded as fashion
Look at him with the shoes on his feet
Look at him with the charisma in his psyche
You feel it’s not enough isn’t it?
All that moola you make from leaching of papa’s gut
That 6 figure cash drop you did fuck all to earn
You deserve that more then I deserve the Tesco’s everyday on my plate

You hate me don’t you?
You hate the way I have to take charity to survive
Hate the way I can still thrive in my suffering
Despise the way I get more from my ability to converse
What you couldn’t get from your 12 inch Gucci branded magic hand
Designed to inspire kinship in the masses
A gap in your balance just to get people to know your alive
I can garner that shit with my plastic in the minuses

God you hate me don’t you?
Hate the way I crack your view of a perfect society
The way I make you afraid for the well being of your future kids
The way I crush the glasses and make you see
The carnage you leave in your wake in your pursuit of a comfy life
That pesky tax bill in the way of another TOWIE fitness DVD
That pesky tax in the way of florescent lights for your car
That pesky tax bill that can save someone from sleeping on the gutters
That pesky tax bill that us ‘frauds’ have to fucking cough up on too
Semi-luxury? Fuck I’d hate me too

Shit man you reeeaalllyy hate me right?
I’m just another number on your balance sheet
Just another raindrop on your conscience right?
Remember when we could just gorge gorge gorge without can fucking guilt?
God I’m such a nuisance I feel it
Every one with paper in their wallets patrolling the streets
I see it in their looks they want me dead
If I was murdered in my sleep that’s one less kid on the dole
If I stopped breathing that’s more tax to go on the MP’s new car
If my heart stopped beating that’s one less vote against the wealthy

Stop the fucking pleasantries you HATE me I know it
You’d love nothing me to see me layed out on the streets
Choking on the air begging for crumbs
Fuck why even wait?
Come round at night and choke me in my bed
Smell that fucking tax cut as you feel the oxygen leave my trachea through your fingers
See the life drop from my eyes hear me choke in my sleep
But fuck it just another bum on the dole right?
Another less student to demonize
One less to antagonize when you learn they don’t align with the blue
One less to blame for your shit grades and crappy job
One less too force into the labour you wouldn’t do for gold, for just peanuts

Fuck your background or your family name
You fucking hate me but we’re the fucking same!
The destroyed youth squirmed under the heel of a boot
How can you not feel sympathy for your like?
When young people aren’t even on young people’s side what the fuck is wrong with everything!?
Who the fuck isn’t an enemy around here anymore?

– Lnc0

Attached [2015 Edit]

Teetering on your chair, toting a mugshot
That only your hitman could reveal in
On the night where the skies opened and the piss flowed
The shine clawing it’s way through the clouds, the night
To place a spotlight on your fretting character
Guiding me through the stairs and corridors

I could see your silhouette drenched in the nerves
Like a magnum melting on the seashore
Each bullet comes down with a thunderous crash
As your trying and kickstart that beat up Herse
A drink knocked out of your hands, a stride to the yard
A stain on the dashboard, a repugnant disgrace

I could sense that frustration from a mile away
There’s no climbing out of a wreckage like that
Misty eyed, stranded and shit out of luck
Hey, if you need a ride why not drive around in mine?
You were promised a cruise tonight and I’ll happily provide
I’ll take you round those curves she never could

How am I?
Nevermind
It’s never been on my mind
Pay no mind about mine

So I towed you back onto the freeway
50 miles down the boarder, there’s no going back now
I’ve dreamed of this feeling travelling up my skin
Ever since I walked through that door tonight

If only you could’ve felt my lips burn
Whenever yours came into my mind
It reduces years of cognitive thinking
Into a slave of mindless impulses

But even with this beating livewire
I know theres not much a girl like me do
But I know there’s one thing I can do
Something only a woman could do

So sit back
Enjoy the ride
Turn off your mind, I’ll be kind
I’m fine, as long as your mine

– Lnc0

A rewrite of this oldie

Anti The Anti Anti

I’m so anti, anti movement, anti perspiration, anti anything
Anti leaving, anti sleeping, anti anything, stay in anti
Don’t move, don’t sing, don’t come alive
The anti’s of that, they will come out in force
That way you drink your coffee in the morning aggravates me
That anti milk in your anti spoon, just cast it away
Consider the anti’s when you wave thorough life
The anti’s up the ante when you anti their calls
You dare skirt 5 meters near that feather with that skin
Don’t claim anti on my words, I’m not anti that skin
I just can’t anti my skin, and I’m totally anti that
You can’t anti that, you’ll become the anti anti!
I’m anti even trying to compete with that logic
I wouldn’t want them dirty anti’s to my name
Clogging up the gaps in my jacket
I’m anti jacket, I’m anti life, I’m anti the ending of all suffering
Did I become that, did I anti the process of being anti?
Was I just born anti? Anti juices dripping of my skull?
Destined by my skin colour to become the anti?
Can’t I anti that anti? Without become the anti anti?
I’d do anything to stay away from the anti anits, I’m anti that
I’m the anti anti anti, but I’m just so tired
I’m tired of all forms of anti, I can’t handle the antis
I just want some pro’s so the day isn’t so anti anymore
If your anti this, then your anti that!
Your anti’s are clogging up my kitchen floor!
So just call me the anti anti anti anti
I’m anti any of this noise

– 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

International Women’s Day. (Late)

I wish the women of the Congo

or Afghanistan or China or South Africa

didn’t need feminism and could stand

up on a pedestal with you because

you happened to win the geographical lotto.

Dismissing a whole way of thinking,

that could make lives better, isn’t

so easy when you’re living in the rape

capital of the world, being forced to

marry a stranger or being denied

sexual pleasure through mutilation.

If you put on your blinders, feminism

might seem like a relic of the suffragettes

which isn’t needed in your individual

experience. It’s nice you can walk

to Starbucks, spend your disposable

income on empty calories and feel

safe. Then you can go home to your

£400 laptop and even though you

have a more global view than anyone

else in history, you will still tweet about how

feminism is evil as if you’re

more important than other women.

Even if we shrunk it back down to our small island,

equality is still a delusion; these problems

are on our doorstep and, sure, if you put

your fingers in your ears then you can

block out the cries for help from the

four women next to you who have experienced

sexual violence and listen to how

the pay gap is a myth as if that’s the

most pressing issue. You can laugh

at feminists, ride your high horse

above them all the way to the ballot

box, trampling those girls whose families

are holding them back from democracy

because they happened to be born with

breasts. You can tip-ex the 19th of

November out of the calendar and cry

every year about how there’s no day

set aside for men instead of educating

yourself and working to promote male

issues but that might be too much like

activism and you don’t want to be

confused for someone who cares too

much.

Or you can accept that power is not

absolute, suffering is not exclusive

to you and feminism is not a

global view. You drew a lucky hand

in the social poker game

and instead of playing your cards

to your chest you can share

them round so every woman

get’s to draw for herself. You

got to decide you didn’t need

feminism which is only possible

because of the work of those

women you seem to disregard.

You don’t have to call yourself

a feminist, because it’s all about choice.

but

If we all worked together, women

and men, on this one day instead

of turning our nose up at preconceived

notions then maybe, one day,

every woman can say:

“I don’t need feminism too.”

– Francesniff

Lil effeminate one

In the crux of a new addiction across the nation
And they’re indulging in full
It’s the deconstruction of an Identity to an algorithm
“Your giving strain to that uniform with your form”
“That jacket gives me pause with your clashing chromosomes”
Well here’s something to choke on with your pies and Carlsberg;

Maybe I just don’t care

If it’s too feminine then I’ve repulsed the right kind
Obsessive and convulsive with patriotic hate
If it’s too effeminate then I’m repugnant in all the right ways
Because spouting verses and hymns and comparing dicks

Wow, that sounds incredibly straight

And your saying it’s gross, nowhere near gruff like a bloke oughta’
That’s funny cos I don’t recall your companion complaining
When she’s collecting wood from the bed under her nails
And lamenting how “The boy is nothing compared to the man”

– Lnc0

VI – The Lovers

It would’ve been so easy y’know?
The oak was in clear sight at the cross roads, my number 12
By this point I could’ve had ‘em pecking seeds out of my palms
My sense of fulfilment appropriately enough: full and my purpose clear
Kick my heels up at the mounts resort and await 13 to take it away
But to think what I’d lose in the process…

I’d miss all the time you’ve called me a two-bit cunt
As the red shell connects with peaches rear wheels

I’d miss all the intense colliding of bunions
As traumatic as the plates beneath California
As we feast on peanut butter sandwiches and milkshake in the park

I’d miss the times your nashers have sunk into my arm
As I trace the lights shine around your Jugulum
During the closer of a drunken summer festival

I’d miss the surge of the heat as we project;
An impressive form of shadow play on the tent walls
For any music lovers passing by to see
Accompanied by the sounds of J.T echoing from the main stage

I’d miss the ways that your eyes dilate as I outline;
My predictions for the ends of this Journey
Eye that believe I can and wants to bare witness

I’d miss wiping away your tears from my shirt
As we collectively take the strike to our emotions
By a scenario writers attempt on our brazen personae

There isn’t a prize, a title, salary, career
An inflated sense of fulfilment, ego or self esteem
That could be worth your absence
Anything worth doing is worth doing
With you illuminating the view, my number 6

– Lnc0

Dedicated to Esme