Meoph surcreh tona

The moon’s leaving bags in the night sky
As it descends at an alarming rate
While we walk to a haven, here on London’s backside
Sponsored by Prosecco and post sell-by date Rosé
Hosted by late naughties sketch comedy
I think it may of been another night at the take out for you
Picking me out like ordering a number 58 with extra sauce
But I don’t think you knew what you were doing that night
You were turning stone back into flesh
Returning excitement back to it’s rightful place

Cos I’ve been stuck in the pits for a year
It’s tough to dismiss the wounds as scratches
But a year’s a long time to collect dust and moss
Your limbs and joints bound by the narrative it creates

But trapped in the surgeons chair, you get used to the idea
Of being a spectator to love’s sweet rose garden
The little coffee dates, the negotiations in the park
The walls coming crashing down after glass 3
It’s a ritual of another design, another dimension
You can only smirk through a smile as your skin decays
The pebbles fall from your marble skin
If I was permitted for romance, it wasn’t for today

But what should arrive on an unassuming afternoon?
With grace powerful enough to make renaissance portraits blush
And the charm to talk a bullet back into it’s chamber
You could hear the Velcro damn near tear as she pulled me from the wall
With a smile that can alter paradigms
All while finding the time to subvert Medusa’s gaze
She brings me back to the 3rd Dimension
Reviving my pigments back from the earth
I never meant to make you entertain any doubt darling
It’s just elation’s a hard suit to get comfortable in again
I lack the talent to produce the stanza’s to let you know
How it felt to see you bide your time through my stillness
I was in there for sure and you came upon me eventually
I just hope the toffee lives up to the chocolate that preceded it

Sebastian Noël

Who’s Really On The Side?

His mind’s slowly escaping his grasp
As he’s trying keep his feet planted in reality
And give the Sunday roast his full attention
Masquerading the neighbours new car as interesting conversation
But it’s no use, his short term memory is relentless
He’s staring at his wife’s face but nobodies home
It all ends up becoming flashback
To 2 night’s ago in a grotty hotel in Hull
Just him and an ethical side bea
She’s whispering clairvoyance in his ears
And it’s not long before the results are in
The predictions start to parallel our time line
As her lips leave a trail down his stomach
While his wrists turn blue from the discount restraints
Her eyes peek from above the belt line
As the leash drags him back… Into the present that is
Cos it’s time to pick up his daughter from tennis club
He kisses his wife with absent conviction
All while he pretends to be excited for tonight
When he’ll meet back with her in the bedroom

She notices the mark on his neck
She notices the burns on his wrist
She notices the lipstick on his chest
She notices the perfume on his musk
It’s not like her schedules barren
It’s not like her sides have fled for winter
It’s not like her secondaries fall short
It’s not like she’s tasting the backside of a veto
Her loins turn blue
As her face goes red
She hums a forced gleeful tune
As her hubby goes out the door

A werewolf in Sylvanian families
A hurricane in full house
It’s not my job to give a fuck
Your name’s on the contract
And I’m out to get mine
A 150 hotel roam doesn’t scream apprehension
Shred your plastic guilt
You want nothing else
Now apply your restraints
Let me veto your right to abstain
I know you can’t stop thinking bout me
I’m the trauma to your PTSD
I’m creepin’ when the mundane thrives
Tax returns with the wife, I’m there
Visiting the parents, I’m there
Arguing about being late, I’m there
Sitting through your kids recital, I’m there
Checking texts on the train, I’m there
Candle lit Tesco’s finest, I’m there
The car ride to Great Yarmouth, I’m there
Bills come in the post, I’m there
Looking forward to getting out the house, I’m there
Dreading having to vacate the hotel room, Cos I’m there
You can’t escape me, I’m always there

Sebastian Noël

Intended to be preformed by a trio

Proud Spastic (W.I.P)

An interaction goes fine, proceeding streamline
But uh oh something’s amiss
I spoke too tactless, pronounced my ‘um’ too harsh
Place a ‘come on’ where it shouldn’t go
That’s all it takes for young minds to rage
For the olive to transform to a thorny rose
On the surface your fine, hey your just defending yo’ self
But better should’ve known then to talk to a retard right?
Well like your crocodile smile, the output don’t align
With the intention of inside being sublime
If you hear me out, I just wanna help man
But that’s an ear too much for ‘one of us’ I guess

Diagnosis on the rise, we’re gonna take over in our prime
It’s an epidemic in the USA, we’ll have to start to carry in time
Carry empathy, an extra beat, a shift in social attitudes
It’s a fucking PC nightmare I tell ya dude!
It’s in the food, it’s on the television
It’s in the water, it’s in the vaccines
Cut the vax, let the little Christian child shiver in his bed
Cos his mumma would rather he die then become one of us
Nah your right, bring back the penalty just for us
Missing the cue from that joke: Get the chair
Wall flowering at the party: Get the injection
Truly death is our only salvation

Oh it’s a slasher fic in my room
You guessed it, another NT gettin’ tetchy
Oh god the spastics out, proper blah blah blah
blah blah blah blah blah blah blah
Well I ain’t gonna shy from no blah’s
I’m spastic plain and simple
And I won’t curb my tongue when I’m excited
I won’t sit still and bind in the corner
I repeat jokes, I spit when I pronounce my P’s
I miss the punchline, I misinterpret the word
I mistake being condescending for agency
I trip over my big-ass tongue every sentence
But if that’s your do or die, what’s that say about you?
Sorry I bring discord to your community
Sorry I put a kink in your perfect victim complex
Sorry I was born, and I promise I’m sorry I exist
But neither me nor any of us are going anywhere
But man you love us on the job right?
“You lot are good with computers right?”
“He comes in everyday and doesn’t complain”
Oh yeah THEN you can’t get enough of us, don’t need no cure
But when your one to one at the end of a coffee mug
And you realize you have to suppress the freedom on your tongue
Then it all goes out of the window don’t it?

Another scar on the arm, but no skin off my nose
I take my technicolour mind, and inspire on someone else’s time
I’ll create on someone else’s time
I’ll advise on someone else’s time
You can talk down to me on someone else’s time
Talk about me like an animal on someone else’s time
Like when the plastic activist raises a brow
“Is this spastic talking back to me?”
Like when masculinity erodes in my hands
“Is this spastic squaring up to me?”
Yeah this spastic make’s a point too
He’s got more to him then a stagnant shot straight mind
Shock! He knows the facts you need too
Shock! He can understand the opinion of others
Shock! He can socialize, hell even start a conversation
Shock! He can bring the charm if he chooses too
Out done by ‘one of them’, yeah you bet
I’ll forget more then you’ll ever know
My comment lands harder then your entire routine
I draw in, in the time it takes you to repeal
And you bet when I hit the sheets, it’s fucking Armageddon
While they Bambi to the phone to call in sick for work
They ask me how on earth I do me?
You know, I know, everyone should already know
It’s the same reason I cast the comments and scream it loud:
I’m a proud spastic!

Sebastian Noël

No Ambition Blues

I’m an A student running on D fuel
You put that together and you get a C life
And that was a fine way to live for me
I definitely never asked for the greenlight to ascend
But with your eyes drenched in tears
And your hands tied by a freshers wristband
You’re not letting me have a choice in the matter
Progress or perish, the narrative my Dear John contains

Nirvana is what we make of it, so what if mine’s on the ground floor?
With the ice cold burgers from the local caff’
Decor as gloomy as the staff, as miserable as the weather
You’d look up at me from your mouldy egg sandwich
Playing D.I.Y Pictionary with a few napkins and my Biro
But still ‘Gone With The Wind’ is out of my artistic scope
You fight through the aesthetics and conjure a smile
That’s when I theorised that we could withstand any pressure

But you’re content to get other people involved
“You could do so much good for the world”
But I don’t want to do the world any fucking good
I just want to do you some good
Evaporate the floods from your vision
Flow life back into your tired face
Fill a silent living room with your laughter
Calm you down when the family sends an opinion
That’s all the good I wanna do
Thoese are the accomplishments I hang on the fire place
Don’t send me off on a Hercules errand
I have no will to harness what I’ve got to offer
You’re where the ambition starts and ends
So let me sink the flag pole with you and a call it a life

Sebastian Noël

Sebastian Noel

Next Season Previews

Drying my feet in the ensuing turbulence
Cos I’ve just dipped my toes into a wormhole
I can’t quite believe what my eyes have witnessed
I’ve seen stone return to it’s fleshy form
As social fossils reanimate from the soil
Did the screams from the soul piqued their hearing
Gasping for air fighting against the cesspool’s tide
Become deaf to the group chat drama for but a moment

It goes no further then a snapshot in time
But in another life it’d serve as the prelude
To a 5 part symphony ringing through the halls
That ends with a parting nocturne outside your door
But not discredit the ringtone minuet currently occurring
Even the Nokia hardware would shake my soul
It’s the calling card left at the crime scene
Clueing me in, what I thought I lost, isn’t quite dead yet

If I blinked enough, I could trigger a hallucination
My skin would start looking fairer, my voice softer
And the only things that would exit these lips
Would be the passions I’ve carried with me
I know were I wanna go, I’m not lost just on a detour
Ambition given is ambition to be returned
Eye contact goes headlights as you start to perform
You know where you wanna go, you know how your getting there
The outlook surpasses greed and nothing shows our youth more
Mrs. Roosevelt would christen us as great indeed

The last 4 years suddenly feel invalidated
I slipped into stasis for a spell while the time kills
Now I’ve slipped back into my suit
I’ve returned to a boy of 20 years
When I’m so close to abandoning my soil
Maybe this has all become a sign?
That I’m not leaving home, oh no
I’m coming home world!

Sebastian Noël

Every Rumour Is True

I hate to admit it’s the case
But maybe it’s time to vacate
Resort to a back tracking slate
And join those who told me so late

They said Colchesters beyond repair
And all it ever breeds is despair
But was that always the script?
I feel like I’ve given up on you
Your’s was the pristine setting
Of a spotless prime time family sitcom
I would’ve let go of so much ambition
Just to be cast in that security
But why didn’t you want it too?
Every attempt leads me to be refused
I rip the canvas apart to be true
But your content to leave me black and blue
The vacant stares, the missed messages
The short talks, the disappearing effort
You never used to turn down my love
What on earth’s changed, to earn your disdain?

I just want to time travel my soul
My morals, My outlook, My cells
Back to walks in the forest
And awfully planned picnics in the park
In the pouring 4AM rain, just passing the sunset
Eating peanut butter sandwiches in the shade
Who was that with? Krissy, Rosie, Nikki?
I don’t know anymore
Their faces have degraded into blanks
The memories are becoming fabrication
Who’s memories am I stitching together?
They feel like strangers in my own remembrance

Tears are making a comeback in my eyes
Cos the town I’ve loved with all my heart
It doesn’t recognise me anymore
It wants me out, It can’t stand the sight of me
I’ve happened upon your corpse wondering Yomi
Your face twisted and contorted
Am I a foreign object, pollen to be excreted?
Cos that’s exactly how it feels
Apathy poisoning my pours
My skin dries and my heartbeat slows to a crawl

Colchester… I don’t recognise you anymore
I don’t feel as safe on your soil like before
This love isn’t healthy, for a creature of my imagination
I need out of you, as much as you need me out too

Sebastian Noël

VHSVCRABC

Thing about memories is that they’re like a VHS
Record over those junk food recollections
With a brand new call back
All it takes is pressing REC with me

We’ve been broke from our silky confines
With new forms, with new names
Yet we can’t ignore the guarantee
Left behind by our predecessors, as a memento

Cos I can see a future not to distant from ours
I see eyes trying to escape to the back of your head
I see nail marks down your spine
I see a smile crack through Armageddon

Summers been actin’ mundane thus far
The nights haven’t delivered on their promises
The day to day starts to blend with no spike in sight
Didn’t you say you weren’t doing nowt after your shift?

Cos yours is a face I wanna collide with in the dark
I hope mine’s a face you wanna keep a fugitive in your thighs
I hope I’m still the kind of boy you wanna make mischief with
The sugar facade hiding syrup clad intent

I’m only in town for a month hence
But you can dictate the rest of my days
Towering above you, or bowing at your feet
You got me by the choke collar girl
I ain’t going anywhere not without your say-so
So take your possession to Pasteur, and lets make your night

Sebastian Noël

Domestic Bliss

I would do a lot of under cuff stuff
To get a million miles from your position
Forced to swallow coffee drops
And perform the ventriloquism required
To perceive the illusion your gorging on the same
Delicately you were on moonlight ridden nights in the park
Inviting a kaleidoscope of fauna in your a gaped jaw
As your follicles all shoot out, like grasping for photosynthesis

And tell me, is he courteous enough to believe the lie?
As he takes vague sentences and defiant dodges
As you would a wedding vow
Cheesy smiles and arm prisons installed on your shoulders
While you go home to the sex your not having
Something about being 1/12th of a wish puts him off
Does the molasses of guilt pour from his gullet?
While you spend another Saturday night, deciding your Rustlers Flavour

What of your intention? Or least your means to indulge them?
Is the fate of cobweb covered antiques
Something that really speaks to you?
What of the voice calling to nostalgia?
As you beam with pride at the foot of V-bar
While transcribes get passed around the joint
But those Chinese whispers come back to haunt you
Why not release the Molotov?
And remember the rumours front to back
From mildew stained bath tiles
To the majestic caress of the hotel sheets
It kills me to see you drown in dissatisfaction
So won’t you trade a quip or two with me?
And transition to the recollection of a life time

Sebastian Noël

Ab-b-b-b-b-b-b-b-b

I can’t call it what it is
My genetics haven’t earned that yet
I don’t know what you’d call it then
Maybe we ain’t gotta call it anything
Cos even without a name it’s marks made clear
The apprehension that colours the bar
As a Walkers crisps ash haired beauty comes through
Clashing teeth on her fraying wool
That’s just like a darling like you
I guess?
But I can’t help but feel you’ll make a mug of me
The blame for that rests a million miles from you
I don’t even need to think much about the one responsible
You can find her like an aging marble of Magdalene
Surrounded by eggshells of her own creation
Stuck on a menacing grin
All her declarations are interchangeable
All her loves are replaceable
That’s when affection loses it’s value
That’s when defection loses it’s weight
But without a source of verification
Who’s gonna verify that outside of the two of us?
Who’s gonna babysit the love that blooms?
I’ve been beaten down to the state of an infant
Burning any bridge I called my own
For a 1/100 odds of a pacifying narrative
Cos freedom isn’t the sobering conclusion it once were
Like a spatula on sunburn, it’s agony
How’s a spade a spade in a world like this?
How’s anyone chatting honestly under surveillance?
You hide the rouge tinted mitts behind your back
None of this is your handiwork you reiterate
I don’t see anyone else with the keys to my coat
If anxiety is the excuser of all malice
Then boy are WE all fucked!

Sebastian Noël