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

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

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