#1 Contents.

Sceney bits/Bonzai magic/We live in public/coupons..It rains/Health and safety...Untitled..................................Spring kleen/Cooker com-mander.................................Trying to dispose of a pear/Untitled........................Gatwick frisk (song).............Make tea not war (song)...Listings/Contribute!..............

Welcome to inc. magazine, a documentation of the spoken and writ-ten word of the Soul Rub Collective.

With a focus on lyrical and playful poetry and songs, inc. magazine hopes to bring to you the energy and eloquence of Word Is Born - Soul Rub’s monthly spoken word and music event - on print and paper.

This is the first issue but hopefully not the last! inc. will become a regular publica-tion, available free on the night and will also be published online. If you prefer to peruse literature in that way, remember to take regular breaks every twenty min-utes, and watch out for repetitive strain disorder.

Nevertheless, the now much neglected format of the physical magazine comes with dangers of its own - watch out for paper cuts. Enjoy!

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www.inc-zine.blogspot.com

Edited/Collated by Will Coldwell with help from Anya Pearson

and support from Word is Born.

www.myspace.com/wordisborn

Jakaboski

1.

Trapped in the tabloids idolising robots,There’s adverse adverts packed on the soapbox,

Billboards with an ill course killing soul off,So lost a whole lot of ghosts sipping bo-tox.

It’s all so confusing, strange an’ makes no sense, Just like a pair of grilled glasses with no lens,

6 year old girls in eyeliner an bikinis,Or men made to look like geek chic’s meeting E.T.

These young girls with low tops that yearn to be stared at,Chequered shirts, overpriced multi-coloured air-max,

So many off shoots an’ sub genre sceney bits,Boxes an’ pigeon holes to lock up an’ beat me with.

I’m still lonely with my friends in 3 easy clicks, Guess I’ll have a quiet one spying on ya sleazy pics,Plug in and rotate note words by the moons glow, Catching scraps of fun while I’m still here to do so.

2.

I cant keep my plant alive...I’m never feeding her,Just another thing to do maybe this way it’s easier,

Pleasing her’s a tall order...alright...fuck...I’m to blame,Can’t even care for a plant...I’ll never find my way.Rise to the grey clouds an’ stare for a quick glimpse,

I shun the rain with vague hope until it sinks in,She’ll never see the sun the weather withers her,

Sitting at my window with our winter never given up,Watch the dry dirt bubble with its water fix

And still she stays ill...man there must more to this.Looks like this ain’t a quick an easy one,

I know how regrets look I think she plans to leave me one,Read up on the net about her...didn’t do much,

Said she’s hard to care for but always worth the huge fuss,Whatever the case we’ll see if I can hack it,...all I ever wanted was a little Bonzai magic.

1. Sceney bits/ 2. Bonzai magic/ 3. We live in public/ 4. Coupons

3

3.

Tickle the back silicon drag drop an grimace,Drag an’ drop ya image act profile projection catch,

Infectious essence tax, thinking ya less than that,Stuck update up late with a tab open pressing apps.

Part time stalker types, boarder line abort,Mindful core barricades casting agent salivate,

Reality t-validate allocate glamour gravitate cracked,Plastic masquerading cats watch what matters fade,

The red disc tech specialist registers stick to every click- tread,Treadmills trespass cyber link head fills to popping point,

Off to offer coins to the coffers of ya shrink tank,Draw a big blank and swim back to the zig-zag trick trap,

Quick tags sit back to back gammon chit chat that holds weight an rings true,In tune soon not to rush it love it. We live in public.

4.

Wake late an’ lay faking coughs to myself,Convinced I can’t move due to my ominous health,

Never leave the yard an’ snuggle in my onezy,Then relentlessly complain about my lack of money. You’d hate to find me an’ mates upon ya doorstep,Clear the dance floor track skipping over your set,

In the shops getting pestered by the clerk,Trying all the tricks while I drop whats in my shirt. I’m not a bad kid but prices now take the piss,

Look I’m forced to steal food how’m I s’posed to pay for splits? This a strange life with everything in excess,

I need twelve coffees just to make it down for breakfast.Kitchen post apocalypse everything is bless though,

No toothpaste I’ll brush my teeth with red pesto,Unemployed but I’ve put in the work,

Been waiting around for a while now I’m looking to splurt.

1. Sceney bits/ 2. Bonzai magic/ 3. We live in public/ 4. Coupons

4

It rains and rains and rains againIt makes them wait and pains the mentrain delays amid a haze of crazea safe place to stay allays the painthe aqua flows attack the roadswith frozen toes she blows her nosestreams appear and clear the guttersdreams are speared we hear the othersbalk at the idea of consorting but right heretalk of the frightening walk amongst lightninglike it’s the apocalypse, but life could be a box of tricksif you look on the white, light, sunny and bright sideyou might find your tired life is suddenly lifelikeit rains and rains and rains againinflames the skein of disdainful mendenial files awhile along London’s streetswhile a smile riles my sullen crease.

Health and Safety sitting on a stack of sheetsTitillate each other discussing the finer pointsOf the CRB in kite-marked swivel seatsOn the fifth floor of the Panopticon. Appointed jointSecretaries of progress and personal liberty -With great glee they sharpen their risk assessmentOn a good idea and compile their new liturgyOf positive lexicography in a well-placed plastic paperclipMeant to minimise the potential for fragmentationHowever they frequently display a liability to snapMuch to the concern and consternation of HealthWho picking up a Pilot pen put out his back.

At 9 o’clock, with the air-con on - to the sound of a dripping tap -Health and Safety cling film their tongues and practice bondage in bubble wrap.

It rainsDorian Tranquille-Day

Health and safetyJosh Solnick

5

UntitledJoel Sharples

A reminder on every chest,Lest we forget.Like war is something distant,A foreign land, a foreign time,Of muddy trenches,Of bayonets and shields.We talk of ‘wartime songs’, the ‘post-war era’What if Afghanistan were a thousand miles nearer?And our heroin blossomed on Flanders fields.

And still we follow the worn-out creedThat free and fair elections are all we need,That by teaching a few thousand kids to readAnd instilling our capitalist greedIn every thought, word and deedWe can heal a nation gone to seed

A poppySlit and left to bleed.

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Will Coldwell

1.

I’m inhaling fumes of Flash, Flash and Mr. Muscle,A mist of chemicals cleaning my lungs while I start to tussle.With the dirt and dust and some grime which has stuck to stuff.To date I have noticed it has begun to accumulate.

I won’t lie – this battle isn’t daily.As a war of attrition I know it won’t end smelling like roses,Eventually I will collapse, die and fumigate your noses,And decay in a way that cannot be resolved with mere household spray.

Ah! The spray! What a way to allay dirt on such a day.No elbow grease necessary – Clean-ing is a battle made literal by brands selling the solution in a trigger.Give your finger a tweak. Then scrub till the surface squeaks it’s defeat.

To the sink - where bits of food have made the plug defunct,And off colour water now fills to the rim the basin that was once a lagoon for clean dishes,Yet now would probably kill fishes.

With sleeve rolled up I plunge my hand all those leagues down to the sink bed, As I do this I dramatically jerk away my head.

My fingers fumble through the dark-ness till they come to contact with a piece or pieces of pasta and a pea, The foodstuffs damming the bowl creating this godforsaken sea.

Which now drains.

To reveal the situation is far worse than could ever have been pre-dicted,

And I diligently reach for the jay cloth to spare my digits the greasy touch of a grey piece of tortellini that sank last week following a failed bid for freedom,

Out of the boiling pot and into the….sink.

With a quick sniff I squirt in some Jif and swiftly eradicate all memory of this environmental disaster,For now in the sink – it’s happily ever after.

But meanwhile my eyes fall upon the settee,Which has lain suspiciously dormant this morning,In fact, come to think of it, it hasn’t moved for a while.My lips purse into a grimacing smile as with a heave I drag the sag of cush-ions out from the wall,

And my face falls.

I. Spring kleen/ 2. Cooker commander

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For behind this beast lives so much dust,That it has began to reconfigure back into new forms.I assume that most of it is skin – per-haps a carbon copy of myself was about to begin,That must never happen!The dustpan and brush happily gobbles up whatever creature was in embryo back there,Why is it so difficult to sweep up hair?Who cares?

I push the sofa back in place and sink into its feathery embrace,I can feel a layer of something on my sweaty face,The cleaning race is over; now I can rest the pace.

I look around the room to acknowl edge the change,

Nothing is moving, everything seems the same.

2.

I’m the commander of the cooker - cooker commander,In control like there’s a looker kiss her don’t ask her.

Flit around the unit - generate food,As nice as how tough that last boot that you chewed was.

I’ve got gas marks on my hand - mark my words,Click goes the ignition that’s what you just heard.

Desert is for nerds.

Fill your mouth with mains just to keep in the words.

Enter the grill general- hot like vene-real,With the itch comes the switch to turn down the dial.

Frizzle frazzle razzle dazzle.

Turning food to golden brown - No hassle.

Or trouble,

Unless you want salad because I’m cooking casserole.

I. Spring kleen/ 2. Cooker commander

8

Trying to dispose of a pearAnya Pearson

Oh mortal fruitI wanted you,But soon was full.

Your swollen fleshAnd inside foamBetrayed my lack of planning forthe smallest of pursuitsAnd dribbled downMy messy, busy hands.

You felt just likea human tongue,Fast turning brownthe waste was done.

The train was crowded,Full of bagsEyes flickered as you hitThe tracks.

Greg Sanders

I found time, he was jumping over potholes in his rush to get ahead of me,Throwing pebbles turning corners burning bridges always trying to get the best of me,And I still can’t explain how he twists and turns my feet blistered burned re-mind me of the sweet rest I need.

And I know time wouldn’t listen, even if I caught him up he never does - Every time I reach I miss him, every time he leaves me at a loss,And I know I know it’s no use complaining, just keep the ball in play,Time waits for no man, I just wish he’d slow down, even for a day.

I found time

9

Gatwick frisk (song)Anya Pearson

“Today I bite,” said Sadie - not to be unkind,But simply to remind me incisors of that sizeCould drive the rabid wild old river wider.The wind was high but I was higher,And what with all that wine and ciderI surmise that we’ll never see sunriseAnd now I’m tired…

Come on people, come on people,Do the Gatwick frisk.Twist an ankle, pull a muscle, split your lip and slip a discIt’s a professional risk,It’s a professional risk.

I was so new,But quick to learn the local lingo,Where everything is closed domingoAll the singles are checking their reflections in car windows.But Kelly’s Eye is on the bingo,Hissing shingle and flamingo skies.Well, we’ve seen sunrise and now I’m tired…

Come on people, come on people,Do the Gatwick frisk.Twist an ankle, pull a muscle, split your lip and slip a disc,It’s a professional risk,It’s a professional risk.

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11

Make tea not war (song)Murmur

Here’s a tune for warmongers amongst us,Rambunctious young punks clubs bundled in jumpers,Hunters, who think that it’s cool to grip a tool,I’m here to recommend another kind of ritual.

One sugar, two sugar, three sugar, four - Everybody in the house - Make Tea Not War!It’s easy to score, take it from me,The Alphabet Pervert laps up the tea.

Now why get a bullet, when you can get a teabag and put itInto a tea cup, gwan put your feet up, bell your bredrins meet upTeam up and stream through your dreams on a raft made of steam. TouchWood, touch bark, touch stem, touch twig,Brew it up like Getafix and get a big swig,A gulp, a sip, careful lip lickSuitable for all mouths, chapped lips and lipstick.

Grab a sip of this quick, bag a bit of this hit,It’s bubbling, babbling, loving this shit.Dab a little biscuit, sink in a penguinThinking again, Inking a pen,An inkling: I like to drink tea (when I’m not spitting)So I’ll buy and allotment and watch the plot thicken

Then bounce to that hop-hipping block-kicking soundSo be sure to get a brew when it comes round.

(CHORUS) Everybody in the house - Make Tea Not War!Any tea you like - Make Tea Not War!Black tea, White tea – Tea Nor War!Rooibos, chai – Make Tea not War!

You know what I’m feeling?A cup of Darjeeling,Bell up Mary Poppins, have a party on the ceiling.My woes are receding, receiveing a blow,Cos to the tea party this evening I go!

These heads tried to chuck it with me the other dayWhen I was chilling with the Earl,“Earl who?”Earl Grey“And what did he say?”“And what did he do?”‘Now don’t getting brewing my boys have a brewww!’They didn’t have a clue, started to babble spew,About their aggy crew and the acts they carried through,All you cats can, stop yapping lap some lapsang souchangI know you’re down with the new plan,

Put on some wu-tang, put on that new nang

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FUR cd with some green tea and blue slang,Blues band dollop, here the big band wallopWith some zig-zags,Billing up a big bag.

On it. When I’m sitting downOn it when I’m standing upOn it when I frolic and I’mOn it when I’m on the cut

On it like a bumble bee buzzing for that nectar hit,Smells so hectic might just do a dance next to it.Mmm Mmm Yeah yeah, that’s a nice fair share,None of this “WHAT? WHAT?”Bear brehs all “RAARE RAARE!!”Thinking that they’re “RAW RAW!!”Poor little aggy ones,Don’t get vexed; get tea-bagged and have some fun.

(CHORUS)

Pick a herb, feel the force of the formula,The local blend of flora that’s the tour de force of sorceror’sStorming in the tea cup and a saucer, or a coarser jar,A porcelain performer storing subtle blends from Corsica.

Into highgrade? Of course you are,Fair trade for those of thoughts a far.Got some coffee? Close but no cigar,I know what my poisons are.

Get my joy from brewing crazy po-tions in a cauldron,While I’m bouncing to an orchestra.

Hubble, Bubble, toil and troubleI don’t bring beef I bring leaf at the double,So if you’re feeling buoyed off, sip a little roibosCall the boys off,“Put that back in the toy box”Oi boss! I think that you’re chatting S -Too much crack and cess,Sit here have a rest.Got some fine flavours, each one is quite delectable,Choose the one you rep and drink it down with steamy spectacles.Feeling unsettled, heat up the kettle,Right to the brim, now we got some heavy metal,Add some very heavy vocabulary ever at the ready,In an Ode to the World’s Best BevyYes please, for that heavenly cup what a legacy,Live on the leisurely, antidote for lethargy,Stepping free, inspiring this here melody,Time for the chorus now it’s lodged in your memory.

(CHORUS)

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Listings/Contribute!

For those of whom who made it this far without reading anything - here’s a digested read for you, courtesy of wordle.com

Upcoming Soul Rub Events for your diary!

Thursday 11 NovWara @ Rich Mix

Wednesday 17 NovRuby and the Vines @ Cobden Cut

Thursday 2 DecRuby and the Vines @ Charlotte Street Blues

Sunday 5 DecWord Is Born feat. Fur, Themlot and Leo Richardson’s Coltrane Quintet @ The Others

Some Soul Rub websites to check out:

myspace.com/furcatsmyspace.com/waralondonmyspace.com/rubyandthevinesmyspace.com/somethingsimplemyspace.com/soundscienceuk

If you would like to contribute to the next issue of inc. magazine, please do!

Any poem, song, limerick or rhyme you have knocking about will be read and responded to. We promise.

Likewise, if you are a graphic design-er or illustrator and would like to con-rtibute any images for future issues, they will be very well received.

Please email all comments, contribu-tions or words of praise to:

w.coldwell@gmail.com

All work within inc. magazine is copyrighted under a Creative Commons licence. For the full licence visit: www.creative-commons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/3.0/