fo sho.

I know a girl called Beverly
she writes amazing poetry
about tears falling in slow motion
and fatherless homes, finding, in, sadness
beauty.
and i like to think she does the crying for me
but sometimes i think she doesn't enough
because I'm collapsing nowadays
a twitching eye, I'm bursting at the seams
and no one can tell, because I'm, I'm,
I'm not the type. All right?
I write sad but smile afterwards
but theres a rage within
that is starved, lonely and unheard
i want to scream but too scared my voice will squeak
don't want to expose myself in case I come across weak
but I'm not, I'm at a stage in my life where people believe in me
and I want to, so desperately, not love me,
I'm a born let-down. It's what I do. I'm self-centered
so weird when no one in your small circle doesn't really know you
because, Sean. Me. I. Don't know who i am
or where I'm going, all i know is I'm moving too fast and it feels wrong

Because I'm arguing with my sister for no reason
then going to eat pasta and breaking down in the kitchen
and still, the tears don't fall, I stop them, though i want them to
I wont even allow my emotions to show, can't let go of my fucked up self
and i don't know why because he's never been a help.
I'm finally in the position i want to be in, and I doubt whether there's a man who can deal with the pressure, somewhere deep down within.
and the pressure isn't even real, i put it there, like i turn good work to hardships like i asked for this. Like i like this.
fuck this. this poetry is the lyrical equivalent to cutting wrists
i could never do it, i always thought it was stupid, besides i could self harm from deciding to take fists.

and i think i've just gone a little too far rightnow.

early morning bitterness.

Why would I even want the world you offer?
When i saw you last you even said it was a small one
I put work into making the most of my time.
It's crazy how a couple of rhymes
can make your self-worth rise.
Thought the world stopped
when i lost the shoulder
i was so well-accustomed to crying on.
At the end of that night i learnt
nothing stops a rising son.

welcome

My whole life I've gone with the flow
now it's time to come up with my own
and honestly it's a daunting position
easy to shout when being ignored
now i have to pick words wisely
because i know I'm being watched
by peers, mentors and old lovers,
depending on the outcome
i may be receiving once craved propositions
Though it's a temptation i only got to where i am
by not giving a fuck about what anyone thinks
now the dreams i gave up on are dangled in front of me
can i grab a quick save? I don't know what game to play
an ending, or is there something bigger out there for me
weird when a motivation gets relegated to a distraction
In my darkest moments She becomes my salvation
but I always wind up feeling awkward when i should be content
too cautious with every step i take, wanting my life to be perfect
Then Tempest quoted Blake who once said:
"you never know what enough is unless
you know what is more than enough"
a harsh truth when you realise how long you lived on assumptions
judgements on whoever stands and is brave enough to be them
while you sit alone with everyone, too scared to be you
I've been down and laughed with those still on that route
Sometimes lives are picked out for you and it's hard to realise
that you get to choose the life you want to live.
I was good at fitting in, even from myself i was hid
so hidden i didn't even notice how far away from myself i had drifted
When words came it wasn't something i planned on escaping with
to be perfectly honest i really didn't think anyone had noticed
but they did. and I'm here. hello mum, and everyone.
the life i live now wasn't so much a realisation, that "this is who i am"
it was always me, I didn't choose, there was no epiphany, no complication
i went with a flow i didn't question. now I'm asked to come up with something
and need to bottle who i am to a select few tracks, i need the definition of myself
and my goal is to always grow, and i hate the fact I'm giving people an product unfinished
but i guess that's what standing out is, we'll never be wholly unblemished
and when we have received the answers to all out questions wont our lives be finished?
my spectacle is my untimely growth, and i hope it's a fantastic show
ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the Sean Cody Mahoney flow.
It's all i knew, even when i didn't know.

sorry, i had to do it!

if for the rest of my life,
i spent every night,
drinking with you,
i'd be the worlds happiest
alcoholic.

Nyla had me.

Some run towards

and run their whole life

so blind they barely survive

some think you'll get struck

and live life going by luck

some forever plan

and think too hard

some run away

but are never fast enough

some will have it all

and still want more

i don't know for sure

but i do believe 

the thunderbolts in us all

open yourself to the storm

and the world is yours

what else are you searching for?

Nyla had me weak at the knees

i would stare at her door for weeks

ready with a fist but afraid to knock

she had afro hair and denim shorts

white porcelain skin we smoked a lot

was the most talented artist i ever saw

a world in itself she must love to draw.
when she left i knew it was all my fault
at the door of my ymca i saw only her note
"sean i had a great time but I'm going back home"
understand i didn't properly let her in
too scared to befriend someone i honestly loved.

Aimee called me lightfoot

she liked to keep me at bay

always a lover but with friends

it was something she couldn't say

last time i tried to impress a snob

gave too much love and now

i again regret the times I lost
She's the prettiest soul i ever knew
and every kiss she gave made me feel brand new
But i tried too hard, gave too much
and she liked the want, but was in too deep
it ended with both of us in place we didn't want to be
a storm can't be forced in, i learnt that tough.

Some throw theirs to strike fear
giving warning to those yet to see the unknown

Some use their gifts towards financial growth
some silence theirs because they have no self-worth
Some are nervous what the have isn't enough
and get tough hurting others who are unafraid of love
it's the look, in they eye he gave,
that wondered at what point you never felt the waves
because a lot of men in london live for moments gone
we where so scared of the angry, gangsters of kilburn
the soldiers of cricklewood the warriors of harlseden
but as times moved on they're in the same small circle
they grew up too quick, and peaked too soon
but no matter how hard one tries
you can't live the same moment twice
you need to open up to the storm that's life
in order to get your mind right

a thunderbolt hit you once

and you did nothing about it

need i remind you you're the cause of your own justice

no government can help you

no mother can protect you

no father can teach you

no partner can love you

anymore than you already do

if you're willing to 

open yourself up to the storm, 

then the world is yours.

What are you being you for?

It's classrooms filled with kids filled with hate

teachers wishing they could be somewhere else

all the dumb kids, all of us where in the same class

Told there's no limit to what we can do

but all we did was limit our views

villanised by elders, victimised by newspapers
before they even do, we assume the will
so what's the point if that's what's expected of you?

after school i treaded boards with actors

in a world of creativity i saw so much strategy

i was in a place my whole life i wanted to be

and for some reason i just couldn't be me

there was a distinct fear i remember feeling

of not wanting to lift my head up in the knowledge

that all i'll see is another disappointment

Most move on

and poets cling on

to moments gone
and no matter whats wrong
boxers find time to run
the damaged deny exception
the loved ones can't take rejection
Bad comedians do what's been done
and good comedians laugh with misfortune
many fight for the party
because there's nothing else to fight for
trying to get another storm in you
many survive the frost from a dog eared cloth
many don't know what they've got until it's lost
We never seem to recognise the cost.

In time I hope to open others up to what I've seen

show all where i've been, maybe see where i want to go

I don't know what I'm trying to do. But at least I'm doing

People may not like where I'm going, but at least I'm moving.
I'm not fighting for respect but I'll take whatever is left
because I'm reaching for the stars with a Dhalsim stretch.

I have a thunderbolt just waiting to break loose
grateful for living a life where i get to choose
being wise enough to know you don't bite the hand that buys the booze
I'll take the help, so one day i can help you.
And before i ramble on any more, like i usually do.
I'll say goodbye and wish you luck in being you.
Because it's always harder than everyone says.

all of me

"How much do you have to give before you get some back?"
if that's your attitude you shouldn't give in the first place.
I'm no longer the beautiful boy, thinner frame, bags under eyes, it's a face tired
since removing a mask.
A facade can't last when you can't get past your past
meaning your present is filled with resentment towards those born with blessings
keep the rage-in when they're complaining, wanting to tell them they don't know what pain is.
But what about me? have I? Do i?
I've lived on the heads and the tails
depending what days i'd see either parents
I only saw the beauty in what was
after the old world crumbled
Now i hug a little too hard
hanging on to moments a little too long
but when trying to revive what's gone
you may also lose the pot of gold you're on
i can't not let you know how it is
not that "if tomorrow i don't live"
more like i don't want to get too comfortable
in the status quo, i merely exist if i don't grow
I don't know how much your smile is worth
but no matter how broke i can afford to let mine show
been hurt in the past, but what man hasn't?
it knocked me down for a little too long
and my poetry became a little self indulgent
and then got a little tired of my little mindedness
now i love to run stages and train like it's a sport
who would have thought- actually, looking back,
a lot. Despite a confession of being self-conscious,
i never noticed i was the one to watch and when i thought
my voice was lost it was then more than ever
i was in others ear-shot
now there's love at my back and i can't stop
in fear that i'll be enveloped, some wish me to trip-up
good luck, I may fall for it
but rest assured, i always fall forward
too committed to forfeit
too effortless to force it
fuck the porches
to my destiny i moonwalked
i'd rather die in my cockpit
than arrive safely in a passenger seat
It took me a while but I'm finally in charge of my destiny
and if i die without ever making a penny
at least i know i lived the way i wanted to
giving myself to all of you.
Or whoever has the time to listen.

Thanks Robert

World in my palm

and i can't get a grip

i turn the tap and

all i get is a drip

a universe to fit my imagination

a pissed-off city on my back

a legacy moving my legs

an oscar winner running 

through my eyes

a desert 

in my pockets

a million pounds

in my notebooks

a facade

in my opinion
a promise of nothing
whispered in my ears
all my problems
are said to only exist in my head

while every element
of my very being

is urging me to make a fist

the worlds in my palm

I can't afford to let it slip

mediocre? never! (again)

why is it so hard when you get on and can't be great
you hit the stage hold the mic and your hand shakes

stage right.

The stage is my home
and i could never be there enough
traded hits for the prose
so fought to steal shows
knife crime profiteers
the subject matter is deeper
never would the day come
when i'd meet a poet afraid of introspection
scream a problem, end with a familiar question
and it's not my day
not my time, but though i wait
i don't do it in line
find another, please.
Every time i make a breakthrough
i just break into another room with a view
of a new room i have to break into.

it's the growth

I've outgrown my grief
I try to wear it with pride
although i know it doesn't fit
what am I without pain?
always a man alive nevertheless
sadness haunts the question remains
if all around you has changed
is it truly wise to remain the same?
sadness haunts only because happiness dawns
like an old friend gone I'm yet to say goodbye
the love of my life who lives the life i love
lives right around the corner
and i have to realise there is no wall in my way
before my burden made everything harder
thought i was going backwards
turns our i was pulling back on a catapult
hurdling me towards mountain tops
now i ask what am to do without what put me here?
Never will i don the mantle of daredevil
never can i be a man without fear
but what am i without the old pain?
Mahoney, all the same.

Comedy.

Her to leave immediately
she does so
in a grumpy manner
less-in moments
than i should be
lesson learnt:
never try to be another

You could call it a dance
black and white classic. Slide.
told it. Right. Took a chance.
and it paid off. The crowd roars
with laughter, no claps, no 'ooh's
and, i get to step back, enjoy it too.

The covers are suffocating
but my skin is too cold.
My breathing is tripled.
Then doubled-tenfold
will be sick but can't acknowledge it
i know i will vomit
hate more so that i can't control it

"in my fathers suit"
floppy sleeves go long past my knees
while the mic chord gets lost in-tangling-
my jokes- i can watch myself from the audience
getting angry. From here, i don't like me.
One dude figures out he has the power to boo.
And becomes everyones inspiration.