Nights Out Are Overrated?
Sam Steele
Sam Steele
Lancaster University
October 29th, 2017


So it's approaching Halloween, a yearly event synonymous for fancy dress and nights out at any university town or city. A few Halloweens ago, a particularly 'eventful' night out inspired me to write a poem about nightclub culture in all it's carnivalesque glory. It's in two parts, the first from a boy's perspective and the second from a girl's, both of whom seem equally pessimistic about the evening's events. And as it's a literal campus tale, I thought - why not share it on here?
Nights Out Are Overrated
Part One
set against the cool black sky there lies a husk of neon a generic pleasure palace squashed in between two takeaways enticing adolescence like a snake charmer with muffled thudding drumbeats exotic luminous drinks and the incandescent glow of lust it lures the plastic people naïve and impaired they’re not prepared to enter this den of assimilation where creepy cavaliers set the gazed apart someone disappears taken by the dark friends turn into strangers the moment they get pissed big guys look quite dangerous girls keep getting frisked gender is conforming identity’s on show some folks find this alluring but I just wanna say no no to lurid thrills and no to those faux-socialites no to evening chills and no to those depressing sights escapism? I wanna escape it nights out they’re overrated
Part Two
taxi fares leery stares a midnight full of dread the queue is packed and bodies stacked like cattle in their fenced-off shed the bouncer’s gaze from his prison days invites me in through the open doors to sticky floors where stiletto sensations and polo shirt prats prance around the awful sound my organs pound self-inflicted self-prescribed time to solve my sickness DIY shuffle over casually pretending nothing’s wrong moving to the blackout loos where dizzy dancers throng the tactical vomit two fingers get on it time travel exists I just saw my dinner fly before me the post-toilet grope a signalled elope give me a break not that trick again men’s bodies and boy’s faces assimilate they know their places well I know mine it’s out of here romantic dreams are snatched from hatching friends are on the pull whilst I’m left hanging around in an alcoholic lull greasy chips queasy dips my company tonight stumbling home to the bed alone the death of each day’s life the morning after embarrassed laughter the general consensus that night a disaster I hated it wasted it can’t stop berating it trying my best to replace it escape it nights out you say? I say overrated
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Lancaster University
Nights Out Are Overrated?
Sam Steele
Sam Steele
Lancaster University
October 25th, 2017
So it's approaching Halloween, a yearly event synonymous for fancy dress and nights out at any university town or city. A few Halloweens ago, a particularly 'eventful' night out inspired me to write a poem about nightclub culture in all it's carnivalesque glory. It's in two parts, the first from a boy's perspective and the second from a girl's, both of whom seem equally pessimistic about the evening's events. And as it's a literal campus tale, I thought - why not share it on here?
Nights Out Are Overrated
Part One
set against the cool black sky there lies a husk of neon a generic pleasure palace squashed in between two takeaways enticing adolescence like a snake charmer with muffled thudding drumbeats exotic luminous drinks and the incandescent glow of lust it lures the plastic people naïve and impaired they’re not prepared to enter this den of assimilation where creepy cavaliers set the gazed apart someone disappears taken by the dark friends turn into strangers the moment they get pissed big guys look quite dangerous girls keep getting frisked gender is conforming identity’s on show some folks find this alluring but I just wanna say no no to lurid thrills and no to those faux-socialites no to evening chills and no to those depressing sights escapism? I wanna escape it nights out they’re overrated
Part Two
taxi fares leery stares a midnight full of dread the queue is packed and bodies stacked like cattle in their fenced-off shed the bouncer’s gaze from his prison days invites me in through the open doors to sticky floors where stiletto sensations and polo shirt prats prance around the awful sound my organs pound self-inflicted self-prescribed time to solve my sickness DIY shuffle over casually pretending nothing’s wrong moving to the blackout loos where dizzy dancers throng the tactical vomit two fingers get on it time travel exists I just saw my dinner fly before me the post-toilet grope a signalled elope give me a break not that trick again men’s bodies and boy’s faces assimilate they know their places well I know mine it’s out of here romantic dreams are snatched from hatching friends are on the pull whilst I’m left hanging around in an alcoholic lull greasy chips queasy dips my company tonight stumbling home to the bed alone the death of each day’s life the morning after embarrassed laughter the general consensus that night a disaster I hated it wasted it can’t stop berating it trying my best to replace it escape it nights out you say? I say overrated
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