Lazy sunday two

My lazy sundays there are a few
Before the sun rises into these eyes
I spare a thought for when this bed contained two
When I got out of bed early for you
Since the day I've only had a pillow to hold on to
I remember the hungover states
Walking slowly to the cafe to put grease on our plates
trading glances through glasses
feeling full up and recovered we go back to the bed
not to sleep but love instead
slow motion kisses building to powerful movements
her held-breath-sigh turns into a belated cry

Truly on those lazy sundays I did the most
Now on these lazy sundays i find it hard to cope.
This bed is a cocoon. A womb. Behold a man reborn
call me lightfoot my name is no longer Sean.
Because I keep on moving no matter what
Because the world will be mine quick when i get the shot
Because no man can run faster from any situation
(even when not moving)
I left with the excuse "I'm a young man understand"
and i know it wasn't fair, how could you understand
when not even I could? Nowadays I hope you're happy
and your lazy sundays are filled with love, eggs and tea
at the same time... I pray to the lord for you miss me.
My lazy sundays where the best days.
but that happiness, to be real, was just a phase.

around the world

i lived your worst fear

when i arrived,

but was not near

to you

to you

have you gone and strayed
she asked
if i'd changed
i said it's true
to you

to you
my apologies are real
I love another,
and no longer feel
for you
for you

now my heart is seasoned
across the world
the loss was lessened
I'm new
for who
for who?

Hip Hop.

Sixteen bars can make a listener wanna go far

like their lives are a modern day folk lore the truest underdogs

there ever where,

personally all that self promotion of hip-hop

has always been a sort of godsend to me, 

Still Brook

Don't get too high girl
you're only pretty at night
when the moon is out.
(come to me)

you're acting surprised
but the truth is
we all know
(its never real)

what do you see
a man that has given
yeah, i gave it all
(too much, never enough)

many girls are better,
all of them nicer
but only a few are prettier
(that's why she's mine)

but only in the moonlight
only in the moonlight
only in the moonlight girl
(come to me)

she can smoke her lungs out
i decide to watch and chuckle
who'll go first?
(death before me)

sex is more frequent with others
but its mediocre fucking
with her we... make..
(eye contact, smiles)

truth is she'd see me
and i wish to see her
isn't that enough?
(if you're sixteen, yeah)

realize im not into politics
especially street ones
who likes you she likes who
(now i hate you all)

feel the anonymity
walking under my hood
no one knows you're pretty
(doesn't it feel good?)

now we talk about escaping
but the truth is
we both know
(it's not real. never)

walking from greenpoint
back to kilburn
only difference being a mood
(In a mood? no in london)

the girls are nicer here
maybe im friendly here
because i've changed this year
(for the better, always)

she looked good
but only in the moonlight
was she mine
(come to me)

NYK

she was a brooklyn babe
he was a camden kid
she keeps it ghetto
yet rocks it hard
he buys what he likes
tries to look comfortable
by being comfortable
like that ever works
he's a poet and

feels bad
for trying to confine
her beauty to a rhyme.

he's looking for the right words.
but can't find them
he's too busy looking at her.
she stops talking.
he gazes for a split second
and mentally jumps saying
"yeah!" fuck. damn. weak man,
weak. sunset upon the dirtiest river
and an orange reflection
somehow compliments her
to the left the sun then sleeps
to the right the street lamp beams
and order is restored
and just like that
damn.
he's in love again.
and he can tell
she isn't.
and fuck. she's reading this
and i know my life
is as real as it gets

no way was it- this... or.. that. there was no hint.
im not sure. im always so scared of swimming deep again
right after recovering from my last dive into that river.
because all rivers of love lead to that great sea of pain.
and i promised not to feel hurt again.
i wish i could trust myself.
maybe i should write 'do not cut' on the inside of my arm
to advertise others a history of self harm.
yet i feel more at home in hurt and feel a fear of being calm.
because im embarrassed to feel relaxed when im so far way
from the riches. the riches.

not a word has been changed. this is me. this is sean mahoney. pure and true. im putting myself out there
for all of you. just so you can learn, know

music i guess

i treat your body better than i do mine
i grew up in rainy weather while yours
is divine sun-kissed sublime still fighting
for a piece of your time trying my best lines
re-drafting back-breaking heart-aching-rhymes
until another takes my time, silly dame
never could the bitch be mine, in my brain,
to love another, it'd be a crime, I take aim
at any woman who prepares to give love,
i shall take your tokens, emotions and rings
make em my tings where now once, anothers
maybe an ex who gave them away when he used be
believing in lovers was he loved by another? worn
denim means he was once warm an'im thinking colder
makes me regret giving you my favourite jumper.
I mean, where is my cover? (to show, for me,
how far you will go?)none of you will know, but i will.
its hidin Alicia Keys choruses, and Jay-Z's verses.


so lets hear it for new york.

upon a kiss.

a williamsburg evening
a poetry reading
and those words that
did delcare
my dispair, she,
left them for the air
the parisian
the hardness of her
the softness within
rolling warmth
nothing to do,
but fall in

(Really though
she was pretty i mean.. really really truly.
so much so i don't think i've ever
had a girl like her.
those jeans. that hair. even the jumper!
a night where life gets, better
you feel, stronger
to the point that
those lonely nights before
where worth it
like i had to take that road
in order to deserve it)

starts, a joke, a dare
wondering how far one would go
and then laughter died
upon a kiss,
and the smile remained
yet changed
moved from polite laughter boulevard
to satisfied hunger drive for
another, she wrapped
unfolded to her
entrances. passes. hands
on riding chests- some -
screaming mess as hair
swooshed(!) in a sweaty manner, wrangled n' pushed
upon.
upon I
while the lay-laying
on my words of despair
though true, (well it was true once-
every lie has been
(upon I. ) once
upon her. )
shaking greenpoint Y
Manhattan outside
the skyline was
upon I was
upon she
was upon my words
the words