I strive to be original
but sometimes this life
feels like my fathers sequel
and that's far from an insult.
I'm just not one for doing
what others have done
I've rejected every baton
others have tried to pass on.
But I can't escape inspiration
therefore i constantly face contradiction
Jay said on to the next one
but what if your loved ones wont move on.
What Jokes can I make
when I'm a joke myself
Rhymes allow my mind to delve
but the deeper I get
the more shallow I become
Gillian Welch said times the relevator
It's only later they see they've
fallen for a pretender
I'm not the same when on the stage
maybe my hunger for fame was a phase
suffering from striving for
underground king syndrome
who's name echoes in deep talks
and not small ones,
Big Daddy Kane, Pharaoh Monch,
Paul Foot, Gillian Welch, Madvillian
mentions-
If I can't live for forever then at least
let my name be Legend, remembered.
And I'm not anywhere near famous
yet am already worried about a reputation
Maybe I'm not cut out for bright lights and red carpets
And then I whine again about not being "chosen"
I'm sick of myself for so many reasons
I'm sick of playing the vitctim,
complaining about not being able to find someone
when my phone has missed calls from good women
While I'm chasing missed moments that if where offered,
I'd probably not even want.
I'm not talking about television
when I say I have a borderline
crippling addiction to loose women.
Those who are the same as me
who's faults aren't concealed
but worn with honour and
screamed when free from sobriety
And I'm nowhere near as pretty as I used to be
Maybe because my face has change with this view i see
And that I don't look after me
I eat KFC when hungry
Drink whiskey when thirsty
Call her when lonely
She doesn't answer
because she knows me
I want to be with her only because
then I can be the old me
Before polar and comedy
before strategy.
When the future was a whole lot clearer
Just wanting to better the person I see in the mirror
Sometimes I forget what I try to live for.
To be better. A better son. A better friend.
A better brother. A better lover.
To stop striving to be old Sean or a new one.
But to be good now. I already feel better.
Thursday, 1 December 2011
Monday, 21 November 2011
Five kisses.
Okay Alexandra, here is my poem to you
I'm surprised we haven't met yet
I'm surprised we're meeting at all
I'm surprised by how comfortable I feel
I like a lot of things about you
and have been struggling with this poem
because that'd mean I'd have to say them
I thought I had confirmed your affections
when you told me you LOVED one of my poems
but was less confident when you said you also loved
Louboutin red bottoms, iMessaging for iPhones
the Twilight films, and selfridges christmas shop windows
Love is only a word, but words are my world
and your world interests me so understandably
i listen to your words very carefully,
I find it easier to embrace your hate for children
and joke about them on our text support rush hour mornings
as hate can lead to cut off arms
but only love can break your heart.
and right now this poem is just becoming a piece on love.
and not about us.
But what is "us"?
we're two people who have reached out
and found out we're worth checking out.
it's relaxed and its' nice
my poetry is awkward and melodramatic
hence you waiting what seems like ages,
like when i waited for the phone to ring
the first time you called me
it was, again, relaxed and nice
surprising as how comfortable it is
and how I'm weirdly writing a poem about it
but why not, what i find most surprising
is that this feels like a beginning
and knowing what weight the word brings
I love that you love things
and I love iMessaging you in the mornings and
I'd love to see you in louie buton red bottoms
and I'd love to go to the cinema with you,
preferably wouldn't love a twilight film though.
i find it healthy that you took an interest in me
the same time i started liking me.
so there's a poem for you Alexandra Gideon.
my future second penguin.
I'm surprised we haven't met yet
I'm surprised we're meeting at all
I'm surprised by how comfortable I feel
I like a lot of things about you
and have been struggling with this poem
because that'd mean I'd have to say them
I thought I had confirmed your affections
when you told me you LOVED one of my poems
but was less confident when you said you also loved
Louboutin red bottoms, iMessaging for iPhones
the Twilight films, and selfridges christmas shop windows
Love is only a word, but words are my world
and your world interests me so understandably
i listen to your words very carefully,
I find it easier to embrace your hate for children
and joke about them on our text support rush hour mornings
as hate can lead to cut off arms
but only love can break your heart.
and right now this poem is just becoming a piece on love.
and not about us.
But what is "us"?
we're two people who have reached out
and found out we're worth checking out.
it's relaxed and its' nice
my poetry is awkward and melodramatic
hence you waiting what seems like ages,
like when i waited for the phone to ring
the first time you called me
it was, again, relaxed and nice
surprising as how comfortable it is
and how I'm weirdly writing a poem about it
but why not, what i find most surprising
is that this feels like a beginning
and knowing what weight the word brings
I love that you love things
and I love iMessaging you in the mornings and
I'd love to see you in louie buton red bottoms
and I'd love to go to the cinema with you,
preferably wouldn't love a twilight film though.
i find it healthy that you took an interest in me
the same time i started liking me.
so there's a poem for you Alexandra Gideon.
my future second penguin.
Sunday, 30 October 2011
Thursday, 27 October 2011
a page from my notebook three years ago.
It's like surfing
Being on the firing line.
where the light helps.
Looking for something
only to find something else.
It's power.
It's slapping someone you hate
It's like winning Jenga.
It's rolling a double six
It's like faith in strangers
It's like a kinder surprise.
To grab the mic,
moving it to the side,
Feeling like a professional.
Its like being strip searched,
and enjoying it.
It's like you've earned it.
It's like going on holiday
without paying for it.
It's like being finished
in mortal Kombat
It's like coming back after
a night out and finding
a five pound note.
It's like "eeeeeyup".
Being on the firing line.
where the light helps.
Looking for something
only to find something else.
It's power.
It's slapping someone you hate
It's like winning Jenga.
It's rolling a double six
It's like faith in strangers
It's like a kinder surprise.
To grab the mic,
moving it to the side,
Feeling like a professional.
Its like being strip searched,
and enjoying it.
It's like you've earned it.
It's like going on holiday
without paying for it.
It's like being finished
in mortal Kombat
It's like coming back after
a night out and finding
a five pound note.
It's like "eeeeeyup".
Tuesday, 25 October 2011
truth.
The roots
that we knew were uneven
have deepened
warped a view
that grew tilted
No coincidence you'd see him
different.
And see him you did.
It was a given he was gifted,
not one for relationships,
love was a challenge
and nothing was promised
so when he betrayed you
he could at least say he was honest.
He sowed his seeds
but you've watered them
you're looking after the love
that he abandoned
instead of nursing
your cut-off branches
that have limited your feelings
feeling cut-off and cut-short.
these feelings always
have you reach for the wrong man.
They build kingdoms for you to live in
but these castles are made out of sand
as soon as your feet are settled
the kingdom crumbles just like you planned.
we shouldn't be surprised they ran.
They don't get it.
they don't see the beauty.
It's not for the untrained eye to see.
I do. It's in little looks, jokes and big laughs.
Personally, I mean you know me.
I like my women like I like my tea.
Strong, hot and bitter.
She fits the criteria perfectly
and before you go "oh Sean,
Sean you handsome, debonaire,
suave, well-endowed, Spider-man-esque
Better than harry baker at scrabble,
friendly neighbourhood awesome guy-
why don't you ditch the tree analogy/
metaphor/whatever. Try it on with her!
your poetry is depressing enough as it is"
Well, thank you first of all.
Secondly,
I did. I tried. Honest. I asked awkwardly,
and told friends my feelings like secrets
and was annoyingly persistent
what i didn't realise is that she needed friendship
what i was doing was calling myself the greatest snake in a snake pit.
The last thing she wanted to do is get bit.
Or just kill the snake.
Or whatever.
Either way. I learnt my lesson.
As for her. She's getting there.
she's my favourite woman in london
and is dire need of a relocation
I look forward to seeing her on vacation.
that we knew were uneven
have deepened
warped a view
that grew tilted
No coincidence you'd see him
different.
And see him you did.
It was a given he was gifted,
not one for relationships,
love was a challenge
and nothing was promised
so when he betrayed you
he could at least say he was honest.
He sowed his seeds
but you've watered them
you're looking after the love
that he abandoned
instead of nursing
your cut-off branches
that have limited your feelings
feeling cut-off and cut-short.
these feelings always
have you reach for the wrong man.
They build kingdoms for you to live in
but these castles are made out of sand
as soon as your feet are settled
the kingdom crumbles just like you planned.
we shouldn't be surprised they ran.
They don't get it.
they don't see the beauty.
It's not for the untrained eye to see.
I do. It's in little looks, jokes and big laughs.
Personally, I mean you know me.
I like my women like I like my tea.
Strong, hot and bitter.
She fits the criteria perfectly
and before you go "oh Sean,
Sean you handsome, debonaire,
suave, well-endowed, Spider-man-esque
Better than harry baker at scrabble,
friendly neighbourhood awesome guy-
why don't you ditch the tree analogy/
metaphor/whatever. Try it on with her!
your poetry is depressing enough as it is"
Well, thank you first of all.
Secondly,
I did. I tried. Honest. I asked awkwardly,
and told friends my feelings like secrets
and was annoyingly persistent
what i didn't realise is that she needed friendship
what i was doing was calling myself the greatest snake in a snake pit.
The last thing she wanted to do is get bit.
Or just kill the snake.
Or whatever.
Either way. I learnt my lesson.
As for her. She's getting there.
she's my favourite woman in london
and is dire need of a relocation
I look forward to seeing her on vacation.
Sunday, 23 October 2011
Saturday, 15 October 2011
Time flies.
The hours slip quick
they feel like minutes
my time is spent as if
it's going out of fashion
and spent on friends
who refuse to reimburse
I reach for the best
but my arms are too short
something deep down
has gone wrong
I know I could do this before
raggedy, my material is old
I've got words for my friends
don't rest then expect saved progress
i had an assumption the game
would of came with a pause button
but it's not a game it's an art form
so for true progression
movements must be made
with honest motives
what I'm trying to say is
don't get complacent
my breath was wheezing
took a break to make it easier
but here i am too scared to jump
in my throat there is a lump
and it strangles new ideas
The schemes for getting paid
don't satisfy me, if i don't receive
what i need to make me happy
I need to move on on my journey.
Like I've done so many times before
But I don't want to run away anymore
I want to run towards and come across
real friends and new movements, already,
I've surpassed the past I used to love
yet the sinking heart doesn't stop
perhaps I'm afraid of what I'll become
Of finally settling in
because when it comes to rhyming
I really don't need a reason
or a cause to believe in
I'm not here for achievements
It just fits it just makes sense
and if i can focus and progress
maybe my thoughts wont be a mess
I wont be scared of success.
they feel like minutes
my time is spent as if
it's going out of fashion
and spent on friends
who refuse to reimburse
I reach for the best
but my arms are too short
something deep down
has gone wrong
I know I could do this before
raggedy, my material is old
I've got words for my friends
don't rest then expect saved progress
i had an assumption the game
would of came with a pause button
but it's not a game it's an art form
so for true progression
movements must be made
with honest motives
what I'm trying to say is
don't get complacent
my breath was wheezing
took a break to make it easier
but here i am too scared to jump
in my throat there is a lump
and it strangles new ideas
The schemes for getting paid
don't satisfy me, if i don't receive
what i need to make me happy
I need to move on on my journey.
Like I've done so many times before
But I don't want to run away anymore
I want to run towards and come across
real friends and new movements, already,
I've surpassed the past I used to love
yet the sinking heart doesn't stop
perhaps I'm afraid of what I'll become
Of finally settling in
because when it comes to rhyming
I really don't need a reason
or a cause to believe in
I'm not here for achievements
It just fits it just makes sense
and if i can focus and progress
maybe my thoughts wont be a mess
I wont be scared of success.
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