Another End Of The Night, No Joy [W.I.P]

Loves me, Loves me not, Loves me
Who’s in charge of these prayers anyway
I’m lacking on the send address on my declaration
I just gotta ask you man, what can I do?
To speed up this process you got going on here
I feel like I’m spoiling faster then the wall plaster

Is there a chant I have to perform
Or a potion I gotta mix in my teacup?
To make the figures start popping up
To have that gaze cover me head to toe
What does it take, be straight with me man
To be looked upon by the surrounding
To get the same intensity of the light-beam
As I dish out there way
In that magically hopeless way
That hopeless romantics do

Then to pinball off the story boards
To come into contact with my palms
To make me feel pretty
That same feedback the ladies gorge on
Maybe I want to feel it too
That world changing shift from just being there
Maybe it’d make me feel more worthy
Worthy of anything given to me

Lnc0

Breakfast Bap Blues [Ver.2]

Your so close to dying
A molecule based misery seeps from the floor
On a not unexpected, but disappointing 5 past 10
Your dodging english again to escape the rainpour
While an egg yolk begins to weep for you
As you take another bite of your morning bap
It’s as miserable of a picture as it sounds
And all you got is the classic English morning for company

You don’t even know when it went wrong
But you know that look when it cuts you
Reserved for the most fiendish of miscreants
As he finds any excuse to pull his hand away from yours
An itch, checking the phone, pointing to a bug eating dogshit
He’s just millimetres separate from you, but you’re continents apart
He was even in rush to kiss you at the door
And there goes a boy, who didn’t want to be here in the first place

Was it something you said? Or did?
Did you miss the cue to deliver your line?
Fuck the line, I don’t think you ever got the script
Maybe he’s right, maybe you never do listen
How do you apologise, you know he’ll just ask why?
And if you turn up short of an answer
Then that’s as good as telling him to fuck off
No matter how many ways you try to solve the sum
Distract his melancholy with treats and trinkets
And cement the cracks with his fave’ band t-shirt
You always come up with bad remainders
And it slowly starts to dawn on you; that it’s futile

So you sink further into the diners throne
Your face covered by the azure curls
In your Totoro hoodie, with your copy of Wild World
As you try and stomach; there’s nothing you can do
To make the clouds part and the sun shine
So you might as well just waste your time…

Lnc0

Still Vibes

It’s another still night in Colchester
Everyone’s gaze is exclusive to surface level
And a vibrant facia pallet of fauna
Is indistinguishable from the cold grey tarmac

And I’ve honestly got nothing interesting to say
No mythological comparisons to make for my Tuesday
And definitely no darling in sight to glorify
Nothing remarkable about a still vibe

Cos without my know-how
My subconscious has be sorting out rations
Keeping my personality for ransom
Not to exert every kilojoule, not quite yet
On winter time dates in the warm
That can’t even muster a flat spark
I run to the hills with delight painted on my face
Only to be greeted by a horde of the dead

Their ain’t nothing remarkable about a still populous
And if everyone’s keeping their love off the line
What good is currency anyway?
If all it’s doing is leaving ache in your chest
Best to wait for the ripples in the blue
And cannonball accordingly
Until then the cold locks up the receptors
Stops anyone from detecting what anyone’s feeling
So it’s best to shut down completely
Until we’re back into stormy waters again

Lnc0

Sad, Except Not? But I Guess I Am Now

Abort! Abort! Operation could not be found!
What a bizarre sensation
When decay visits your head-space
But comes too at a loss
What’s dedication to a feeling without origin?
It’s just like trying to cry with dust
Pointless and painful
Everything’s getting better
But your hearts missed that memo
What a confusing bus ride this is

I’m a float belly first
In a flood of a profound melancholy
For what fells like decades
The mere notion…. Everythings okay!?
My heart rejects it
“You thought this last time!”
There’s never a point in your time
The laser points, NOT aimed at your head!
You might crave happiness, but rest assured
These endorphins lead only to pain again

So stay as you are
Holding back dry tears
Cos the bus is gonna be 5 minutes late
To arrive to the appointment you don’t have
The way your shoes feel today?
Spots on your skin? Yeah cry over that too!
Trust me man, it’s so much safer this way
So cry your little heart back to safety

Lnc0

The Attitude Towards Pain

The worst nights aren’t the one’s
Where your sobbing into your blanket
Over a collection of your favourites songs
It’s the one’s where just shrug it off
Unable to bring up any kind of emotion
“No surprise, girls will be girls, boys will be boys”
When so much aching’s rollercoasting around you
That you can’t cope with living any other way
Living with that overflowing contentment
It’s like a spoon full of Cavonia for your cough
Pain stops becoming inconvenient
And becomes inevitable

I’ve never thought of it so bleak before
But as I’m coming up to act of my 20’s
I’ve got to sit down and ask honestly
Can I ever find love before I hit the grave?

Lnc0

The Kids Of The 60’s And 70’s Are Useless‏

We’ve been told we’re the lost generation
An age that’s thrown our lives to the cycle of sleaze
But we’re really the generation that’s just trying to cope
Picking up the trash left behind by the settlers of ‘67
Coming home to an empty home again and again
Feeding of the scraps and sparing our own rods

Tell your mumma to mind her own business
Tell your pappy he doesn’t have to worry
Because the kids of the 60’s and 70’s never grew up
And it’s up to us to clean up after them

The kids of the 80’s and 90’s are in reality so much more
We’ve learnt from our neighbours to swat away the handicaps
Of a disappearing drunken father, you only offered you another fag
Of a malfunctioning mother who traded your lunch money for another hit
And for those parents who decided to stick around
We’ve learnt to only expect, to be told the things we never did
To be told we can’t do things, To treat NVQ’s like pictures on the fridge
To accept we’re punching bags for their own poor life choices

We’ve adapted to take compliments from the mirror
To treat our homes no less of a warzone then the urban jungle outside of it
To drown out that nagging in our ear that tries to reinforce
That just because they never saw you staving of suicide
While staring at another application on Reed.com
That it never happened, and that your useless

We’ve learnt to brush it off our shoulders
Because when the time comes, after hours and decades of labour
Of honing your acrylic blade, and sharpening your tongue
And you see the kids of the 60’s and 70’s
Chewing on their Beastie Boys Vinyl and while sucking their thumbs
Looking confused without a son or daughter to take their anger out on
And asking what they could’ve possibly of done wrong to have been left behind
You’ll know you came all the way up here from tattered clothes
And feeding of the scraps of government donated rations
And you’ll know you did it all on your own

Tell your pappy to mind his own business
Tell your mumma you got it all under control
Tell them you still believe they love you
Because the kids of the 60’s and 70’s couldn’t even keep a cat alive
Let alone try and cushion the blow from the sober fact
That the kids of the 80’s and 90’s have no future to look forward too

– Lnc0

An Innocent Enquiry

168 hours feels just like a few minutes
Spent staring at the hieroglyphics on a plastered wall
Laying with the company of plates of unfinished dinners
Tea stains on the bed, sauce stains on my shirts
Seeing the opportunity to cleanse their karma
People came and went and recited lines
From a prepared scripted emulating admiration
That was never there back when the woman took in air

I was still clutching my hands to that old DS
Bruising of the D-Pad etched into my fingers
Still on the same save file as I was that week
I never averted my eyes from the display
I couldn’t bare the images of them carrying you out
To be scarred into my mind every time I look at the stairs
I couldn’t bare the thought of acknowledging this
As the world outside this screen, with the way things are

They wanted me to come back to the world of outside
But what wonders could possibly be out there now?
I hear the moans of the spoilt lobe stretched army
Caressing the creases of a spare 10 pound note
When the anniversaries of their mothers birth rolled around
They don’t know what it is they really have

I hear boring boys prepared to put there lives on the line
All for the vine, for the retweet, for the reblog
They want to make there families feel how I feel now
They don’t know what it is they’re really doing
I hear the cries of distressed souls bleeding from their hearts
Playing roulette with the choice of life or the choice of death
The kinds of choices people have taken out of their cold hands
They don’t know what it is they’re throwing away

Even when you came back to class
We couldn’t help but notice an absence
What happened to the boy we used to know?
Who was this corpse that now carries your name?
We asked why it was you never spoke anymore
We wondered why you weren’t as funny as you used to be
You couldn’t even muster the will to crack a smile
Let alone crack a joke

Only the few of us that had the nerve to gossip knew
While collecting scraps of the article you left behind
Oh we didn’t know what we were saying to you
What could we say to a boy like you?
You carried yourself between the corridors
Like you were being carried by the breeze
Your body may have been alongside us
But I don’t think you were ever really there

As Preformed By Domestic

– Lnc0

Acting Submissive With The Clubbers Of Colchester

You don’t have to yell at me so loud
I’m trying my hardest to have a good time and crack a smile
But in the midst of this murder of scavengers
The type that pick apart the scraps of poor lost lambs
Who have lost the sparkle in their eyes
I see you spread out in the back of the bar like a corpse
I wish I could obey the green lights at the racetrack
But I can’t find the heart to reach out and take it

Oh and you make your disappointment in my discomfort known
If I had a penny for every time I am under criticism
Cos’ I refused to fall in line for the male stereotype
I’d of brought the taxi home to save you the embarrassment

I wish I could tear your focus away from your phone screen
Trying to gather the scraps of a good night out
I just want to grab you by the wrist, and pull you up
Into the phantasm of the violet lights
And dance the dread away, loosen up them thighs
Run your hair inbewteen my fingers
And plant the sweetest embrace
But you’ve lost your willpower you just want to sink into the seats

Oh please let me go!
I can’t stand to see you like this anymore
You fidget and squirm like a child in a push-chair
We just aren’t comfortable together it would seem
I didn’t mean to be such a disappointment
I didn’t mean to make you so sad
I didn’t mean to fail you as a man
Maybe it’ll be better if I just went home

Created as a counter part to this poem
http://thetartanprelude.tumblr.com/post/84961086712/acting-domineering-with-the-clubbers-of-colchester

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*

We ain’t nothin’ about nothin’

A buzz to click you back into conciseness
The bigwig is calling for your appearance
A bead of sweat travels down the skull
You reluctantly agree to be grilled for the day

You rearrange the paper cooler cups by size
To postpone the transaction of self esteem
He heaves his heavy body up from the chair
And starts to head to the throne room

He gives it his best, and it still wasn’t up to spec
When has it ever been too their spec?
The spec is a speck to you now

You’re a zero, nothing more than a zero
You were born from zero and their you stayed
And if you forget they’ll be too quick to remind you

A bus ride back to the lady’s apartment
Lagging by an hour, with the stench off commoner
You knew from the start this visit was business
She gotten sick of your face, and your excuses for being late

Greeted by her screams of fictitious events
What can you say? When words seem useless
A sigh of disappoint will have to suffice
The love as gone back to that familiar zero

He gives it his best, and it still wasn’t up to spec
When has it ever been too her spec?
The spec is a speck to you now

You’re a zero, nothing more than a zero
You were born from zero and their you stayed
And if you forget she’ll be too quick to remind you

Walking back carrying months of your life on your back
Rainy night, the sky just oozes with delight
When all seems lost to you now, a pleasant sight
Your mate stuck in the gutter with a bottle of gin in one hand

Patrolling about the town, as he leads you to the heard
Telling the exaggerating tales of a Wednesday evening
A pat on the back, a charity shot of vodka
And suddenly the comfort zone has returned, he says:

‘I gave it my best, and it still wasn’t up to spec
When has it ever been too the spec?
The spec is a speck to me now

But now my best goes into these friends of mine
And the results are a guarantee’

But we’re all zeros here and nothing more
We was all born from zero and their we shall remain
We don’t need reminding we’re all in the same boat

What better way to spend a Wednesday evening?