Saturday, 29 May 2010

jazz hands

I hold music close to me, two hundred songs rest in my palm.
Each one an escape out of this cold world to one more warm.

A room got closer last night, while outside there was a storm.
We laughed at a grown man-child who was unable to conform.

(The child doesn't hear so the child isn't here
The crowd doesn't know so they only cheer)

Lighting bolts across the face, changed since you where born
Meaning i have to step my game up trying hard before dawn.

Look behind i've left a trail, impressed all my women scorned
it's how you remember me, my movements will forever be- burned
into memory.
Thunderfooted she's in a race, bright like a light-bolt i learn
That in order to go the right way i need to lose pride and turn

My own self is more myself than all of them, stars in stardom
my mind's sharper than a nineteen fifties middle america lawn

beatup speakup dreambut

i've got a heartbeat that beats weak every time you speak
longing leaps liken to lost weeks where happiness leads
smell the memory it reeks kept the same one in old sheets
wrapped up in an old retreat that bleeds when you speak
in your hands I'm held by the tail and i fail to answer only squeak
in your eyes I'm hidden from sleep chillin' in darkness like a creep
below your feet I'm stepped on become your floorboard and creek
weakened heartbeat reminding me to remember i'm still alive- beat.
beat up, bruises show when not wrapped in what could have been
been up, higher than the flow what you knew i now know and speak
speak up, out comes the fire from my lungs describing all i've seen
seen what? a truth she'd bare not know, he's awoken from a dream
dream but, remember no dream has ever been quite as it seemed
seams burst, the talk is a confession of all my sins i now am clean
she's hurt, wanted a romantic, but never got it, couldn't handle it,
and after the promise i still contradict, my honesty is crossed with
every single thing i never wanted to be, to come across conceited
I've got a heartbeat that beats weak whenever you speak
but my mind freaks out when memories go to my life's peak
so to whatever way this conversation leads i will still leave
best of luck in finding him, the one in that'll let your love in

Saturday, 15 May 2010

Lodon story part one.

he walks with london on his shoulders,a young man who's had enough- but doesn't yet know.
the streets mean a lot to him,over the past three years he's decided these streets are his home.
First it was the home, then the new home, then the old home again then two, three, too may flats
north-to north west in general was his home, as he still didn't know to what street he'd next go.
a quiet scream from within has him pause, an old friend with his family exit from old doors, still he walks and doesn't stop till camden lock, takes out a couple of pennies, watches them drop, waits for the plop.

Tonight he's backstage searching for lines, tomorrow he'll again play his part but right now he has to find something that can wake him up, as for so long he's been given too many reasons to simply, give up.
It's a life led to impress his friends, so much grace given but where do you go when the show ends?
with each step london puts a bit more pressure on his legs yet there's something in this night- like-
he doesn't know where it's going to to next. So with each step he looks out for a situation he wouldn't have expected and by the time he reaches the flat in mornington crescent his hands holding keys are hesitant, awakened to that he doesn't have to go home if it doesn't feel right, goes from zone two to one in one night.
by this point the ipod has died but that's alright, as he's quietly confident tonight will change his life.

Tuesday, 4 May 2010


I never listened enough to my mum
she would always say i was headed for big things
something like a, phenomenon,
i never knew where it came from
as i was always, not, well behaved and-
figured, you could make a man from clay
open his eyes to see a new day
create ears to hear all wisdom
give him a happy home to come from
but given the choice he still wont stay
never do never will, 
held hearts always hold out for a cheap thrill
started as daily visits while he was at work
turned into walks through the park,
swalling a bitter pill when they where together
she wanted a nurturer, it's not romantic
but i tried to help her, and that urge to kill
went to her other, other-
felt my lovers future fall through broken hands 
and the enemies blood in my mouth
the enemy is myself spat out i look up
see the man she never wanted to make angry
i knew he would, but i never knew it'd be..
i guess her bruises never came from affection
leaving me the man who's help only hurt
destined to become a crippled contradiction
we lived a dream that's a little too non- fiction.
no dream has ever been all it seems,
now I'm bursting at the seams, 
depending on what way his fists lean
teeth are seen and feel mine are gone
and i wonder how long this pain will carry on
if i my arms get their act together and no longer be so weak 
i can pick myself up from the street
but his feet on my back put a stop to that 
people from the pub now come out
i wonder if what i did was really so wrong,
i was the man she could depend on
then again it was their bed we slept on.
these street lights are so orange i see all in sepia
i dedicate my last thought to my mother, 
and am sorry to have disappointed her.

Saturday, 1 May 2010

Sean Mahoney 101

I think I've slipped into depression again. Typical of me, The kid that never accepted the life expected yet still hears the doubts. while i sleep uneasily in a city that's unseasonably cold being cool never helped me in the winter, a genuine article should stay true no matter the weather. no matter the weather. I'm. losing my confidence. On a long, long path piggybacking a pissed off conscience to a destination That can either be two steps or years away, dedicated to a way of life where i'll get paid to say what's on my mind. now isn't that cool. aren't i the shit. but i forget it, unable to address that I'm one of the best. That I am THE best. because no one can do sean cody mahoney quite like sean cody mahoney can we're all doing well but some do well good impressions of others, for them, the stardom can come early. they have an audience, the person they're impersonating- and good for them, I guess I get a little jealous because for some reason, i find it really hard to be myself, or believe that myself is enough. If you ever see a man understand in my reflection is the kid that got pulled out of class because he wasn't smart enough, who would walk with his friends after school the same old route, then after they had all got home, turn around and walk a whole new way because he didn't have the guts to tell them his parents had split up. Trying to understand how he lost a fight in which he didn't even get hurt, sleeping with the coldest body in his bed, treasuring a secret until that secret left, excuse me for that last one not being in depth. depth. wordplay. my words apply to those that have trouble getting by but i preach to the choir, my own pastor. myself. I don't believe in myself enough, no confidence in my confidant, myself, my god my help never comes. and when it does it's to help someone else pull through not that i regret it- i just keep typing. sometimes i don't know whether im searching for truth or another convenient rhyme. i scrutinise every single line that comes out destroy it before anyone else WILL because I'm STILL the fool of the room the clown that knows no self worth but can smile like he's never known hurt leaving stages early because if i stay on any longer they're gonna boo me- cut out the inspiration from my eyes, i no longer feel beauty in myself. my god, my help don't come. and when it does it's only to tell me not to be so- so- so- lonely. cut the inspiration from my eyes, shave, cut my hair wear normal clothes so i can be just like all the other guys, put the flower back on the wall, it will be like being sixteen again, but without those eczema ridden red eyes, couldn't help but stand out no matter how hard i tried, they were ugly eyes, the type you wouldn't want to look at, the type people wouldn't look at, so when i got on that stage i made sure i was the one to look at. now it's all gone and im constantly trying to be on form, am i the same as the others that aren't in the norm? then im not different at all, but whether it's good or not, there's no group for me yet. myself. my god my help comes but when it does i refuse it. then it gets regretted. lord, oddness is subjective but it's like im breaking my neck for a new perspective. never been what's expected, though now nothing i do is accepted- more on that later- though hopefully none more of that in the future. not a man. a lion under shroud a bomb to the crowd.. that i am a bomb, when i get on that stage im more than a man. no. mno  noanodnsfoasdnfoidsalnfo no! I'm/ not looking for that. (hear what I'm saying I'm not making it right) a breakdown. haha. argh..

now this would be the point where i have you all but lose myself to the 'wrap-up wrapitup sean' that constantly shouts, whispering, guaranteeing me a fool, urging my eventful fail. I fall. I need to get past it. keep writing. don't edit. don't change. I've done a lot of odd things in my time, i've evolved but haven't changed. does that make sense? Iv'e watched myself do things i wouldn't want to, like it was on tv, saying to myself "glad that isn't me!" then i wake up to a hurt head and she looks disappointed, or,  satisfied, or loved, i never can tell. too busy figuring out a get-out plan. im always trying to get out before im asked to leave, too scared to really believe im accepted because to be accepted is to be wanted and all i ever do is leave people disappointed, i mean im okay for a while, we can chat about rubbish but when it comes down to it. to the nitty gritty how do you feel about life and me conversation my view becomes shrouded crowded with demons. I don't see life in black and white or all colour it's just london shades of grey, and every day the time falls into a clock that ticks towards a future i can only stop by not being what i know i will. no matter how i run my failures only make me stronger and i go on for longer and i, i , i , i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i survive. just about every time, coming out the fire burned- uglier than before but bloody learned knowing that when my time does come it's been well earned as it seems like the way life hurts most when it pulls the rug under you as soon as you think you've figured out how it works- i just keep talking others words in my order. i get better, i become geekier with wealth stronger, real country, real city. real real for the life that you wouldn't think was. i grow every single moment is mine and im going to go on that stage and shine. when it's show time. and though those times can be sparse from now on im going to experience each one like it's my last. because depression isn't my friend, she's my mistress, my wife is london and at times all i see in her is mistrust, mis placed into another artist pen that's treats her like she's only full of gay muslims in hoodies and hugh grant-type tories. but no. but no. but no. but no. I'm the one. I'm the best Sean Cody Mahoney there ever was, I'm the only Sean Mahoney that ran up west hill when he was thirteen, The only Sean Mahoney who one best boxer of the night on his very first fight, who wrote fifty poems for fifty days straight, who's taken weight and fists in the face with a smile, the same sean who got good looking over night, making every girl from school regret not treating him right, the same Sean who loved, even when no love was given back, who got drained into a withering mess only to bounce back love again, this time it being his pen, and the stage, you see, my words glisten, i get inspiration from dean atta and indigo williams, if silence is not golden then let my words glisten we're the indigo children in constant evolution sometimes i get lost in loneliness yes, sometimes i wish i had a younger mindset and more confidence in my words. but then i realise that it would be a wasted wish, foolish when i can do. so lets,

you either do or you don't
either have or you want
and if you don't have you know
so if you ever get it,
you better let it show

and just like that. i slip out a little more, the more i do the better i get at doing, what's there to prove? what's there to lose?
(tap your feet. nod your head) and