A few words about Suicide (Meaning the band!)

So recently it was announced that Alan Vega of the band suicide had passed away, for me this was the first musicians death that made me cry. I didn’t weep for Bowie, Prince, Poly Styrene or Lou Reed. But Vega was the one who made me fucking weep for hours, I was kind of a lost soul the entire day. But I got thinking why was it Vega who broke my tear virginity? I think it’s in no small part to how much Suicide means to me and the impact they’ve had on my ability to preform both inspiration wise and on the scene. I could go on and on about their music and how they contributed to the acceptance of synths in music that we all embrace today, but I’d rather concentrate on Vega and performance aspect. Besides someone else can probs do the music history lesson better them me.

So for those of you who follow my blog you’ll know that while the stuff I write is mostly tame love poems, the stuff I PREFORM however is a lot less so. Most of my performance stuff is based around screaming one word 80 times and putting some prose around it every now and then. In a town like Colchester where we get a lot of the London crowd a.k.a the kind of people that just want to see THAT ONE POEM preformed again and again by white middle class people, needless to say I’m not always well received, even when I cave and do preform the love poem stuff! In those times, like when I’m preforming at a Folk Festival and some 35 year old twat shouts “What is this crap? Where’s his fucking guitar!?” I often think of Suicide, and very often think of their gig in Brussels

For those who don’t know, Vega would often preform his songs not unlike how you’d preform a spoken word poem, at the time of the first album anyways. At the tamest you’d get stuff like Ghost Rider where it’s like delivering the lyrics with a rockabilly tint, at the most abrasive you’d get stuff like ‘Frankie Teardrop’ which involved Vega doing HOWLING screams after preforming lyrics about a man putting a gun chamber to his 6 month old baby’s head and killing it. Couple this with his backing being Rev’s synths at a time where going to a musical gig without a guitar was grounds for a death warrant. THEN imagine that when your opening for Elivs Costello and the only thing in the way of him and the crowd is you…. yeah they put up with a lot of shit needless to say. If you can listen to the recording of them in Brussels I 100% recommend it, it’s an experience

But I don’t think it’s a stretch to attribute the fact I can preform my poems screaming about BPD or screaming about giving a lady multiple orgasms so she’ll buy you a milkshake, with literally ZERO fear of having my teeth kicked in… Well to Suicide’s work with preforming live taking the brunt of that aggression. Vega sort of taught me no matter the kind of performance and art you want to show people, no matter how little ‘conventional talent’ or appeal you have. Keeping on with something real for you and showing the world with enough conviction, you’ll start to change things and change lives. Gotta keep those dreams alive, even if no poetry elitist cunt from London wants to accept me, if my poetry can help one person then I’ll have achieved my dreams~

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

Poison

All I ever wanted to do was shower them with prizes 
To latch onto as they travel through the darkest days 
The kind they’d open up a jewelry box to their grand kids 
And tell them exaggerated tales of the golden years 
But as I watch them fall head first into the night, time and time again 
As a common denominator you do have to wonder don’t you? 

I’m the doubt in their voice 
I’m the pause before the retreat 
I’m poison 
I’m the doubt in their abilities 
I’m the sigh in the night 
I’m poison 

All I ever wanted was to see my girls sore into the night 
With or without me by their side, eyes dilated with glee 
Whatever the method may be, no matter the price 
Because If I have to see another one fall from grace 
I may just put the next bullet in my brain instead 
I don’t want to do it to them anymore, not again 

I’m the lack of scale in their thoughts 
I’m the bar that’s been set low 
I’m poison 
I’m the cracks in the mirror 
I’m the 2 for 1 concealer 
I’m poison

Megaten has done it again

If I may have an off-shoot for your regular poetry content I’d like to talk about some of the life lessons and video game named: ‘Shin Megami Tensei: Devil Summoner Raidou Kuzunoha Vs. King Abaddon’ has taught me and maybe speaking about will inspire 1 or 2 of you too

Many kids at our age these days are plagued with misfortune and despair, weather not objectively the volume of their cries coincides with the weight of their aliments matters not. It’s easy to scorn those who writhe in despair who only live to stand directly opposed to your morals and way of living, it’s easy to plunge into despair yourself as a result of their need writhe in their situations, to abandon the mantle you have taken on yourself, a mantle to which you took on because you didn’t want to see people suffer at the hands of misfortune any more. But no matter how endless their strife may seem you can serve as a spark in order to make people stand up and take lives into their own hands and end their madness, even those you act as your polar opposites if you stay strong and refuse to abandon your mantle then you can bring them hope. I abandoned that mantle once and lost a lot of people I cared about, but I shan’t do that again and try and bring hope to as many lives as I can, me ma taught me that and I’m glad some beautiful god damned people from the land of the rising sun made an amazing game to reinforce that lesson. Videogames.

“You have become a witness to this spectacle, abandon the mantle of ‘Raidou’ your actions of hope will only bring despair” – Shadino