got bad to do

Phone calls and hang-ups and step toe and son re-runs.
rustling sheets lovely sandwiches and jackets as presents.

ripped-tights, made-teas, passive-aggressive arguments.

jokes. everywhere, museums new-books, cuddle, television

show-her-off parties shrugs roll-off the tongue insults

lots of drink being sick pale people warm-up breakfasts

eggs, bacon, mushrooms loving looks between menus
promises from eye contact that have one rush to the flat
stroked arms, resting heads denim daisy dukes removed
stretched stomachs in flips, smiles no longer reserved

old streets walked on spent in awe- but one's too fast

press-ups towards late-night runs to more aspirations

cold-shoulders no eye contact new looks no respect given

moonlit bodies slide with anger, train seats stare into space

inspiring work inspired from smiles laughing at them

all men that try to be something they're not, what we'll never be

no answers too scared to ask questions too proud for pain

far away looking back at yesterday try to find out what it meant

replay every event wanting another body that's heaven sent

golden green olive kisses mismatched lovers circumstances 

deal the blows take the pain, we eventually stand all the same

and if i had the choice yes i'd do it all again.

tv lights.

My fingers type away at a breakneck pace, the sound fills the room followed by a little laughter. a giggle. if you will.

i didn't anticipate this. you. here. but i did dream of it. what was most magical is that the moments we shared where never the ones i wrote. or what i thought what romance was. not pizza express but greggs, though there was a smile on your face the whole time. consequently that put a smile on mine. We're watching the wild bunch. your head is on a pillow that is on my lap. we haven't kissed yet. or confessed our need to connect. and your head is on a pillow. which is on my lap. You're beginning to fall asleep and I'm almost freaked out by how effortless this all is.

I walk you to your room and tuck you in, i could have made a move, maybe you would have welcomed it, but i didn't and weirdly enough I'm thankful for it because, I've never known courtship and evidently, despite my years watching disney,

I didn't know romance.

Another walk home now. I've lived on these streets for so long, yet, never felt admitted to the club of street-dwellers. trapped in bypass, constantly walking through and past, but truly my journey is living, but my journey is spent living the same thing. Tonight these streets see me walk slow, look up and take in the view with a new perspective, My mood is reflective, almost glad for my lonesome nights, in such a crowded space not enough hold out- just cash in but it's not worth it, if another could appreciate what her hand in mine meant, they'd understand why i walk with this slow-motion-skip in my step.

The body moves too fast for the mind to comprehend the situation, under covers our energy combined pumps an adrenaline so strong the bitten necks and pulled hair is painless and- enthusiastic legs wrapped round squeeze out hidden tears that fall on the skin you've longed for-for years. I close my eyes and when they open i lose my best friend forever, and i make a silent promise to make sure i don't fuck this up. Because i don't know much. but this is a lifestyle i could get used to, and it turns out i like to be touched.

say it right.

I drew a quick breath

as the rain hit my neck,

to shield short pain my collar was lifted

fact is my skin's always been a little sensitive.

and I thought: like feist- i feel it all

but like dizzee- i stand up tall

as if everything i see is apart of me

and I'm embodied in everybody

but then everyone moves in different ways
so much so i get to the point where
i can't find myself some days.

So yeah, i've been needing some help lately

don't yet leave I need to listen to someone other than jay-z,

telling others "I'm not depressed Just stressed"

not depressed just stressed.

to everything and all I've given my best

apart from myself. With that I need your help.

words hurt but not as much as fists do,

that's what i thought until i realized

i wasn't strong enough to say- I miss you.

"so, how's it going?"

"you alright?" "How am I?--- Okay"
although recently it's felt like

every word I've said to you I've

been saying the wrong way.
Like, if i could just, say it right.

Your hair was the lamp post.
You hair was a lamp post giving light

to a night almost lost

(hear what I'm saying)

of all the videogames I played donkey kong

country was the best. but that doesn't matter

because you're the coolest girl I ever met. No

as soon as the feel of life began to get me bored

you didn't so much reinvent the wheel

but give me a hoverboard

it's hip hop on an accordion

tin- pan blues with a heavy base

something that works though at first

you'd have though it was out of place

so how can you expect me to understand

and stand and watch you hold his hand?

I mean,

he does what he can

I do what i will

he says what they say

i say what i feel

he's keeping it real

While I'm trying to live a dream

for years i've been cooking a scheme
and i don't even know what that means
like we're some carbonara dream team
hear what I'm saying I'm not saying it right
hear what I'm saying I'm not saying it right

look,

your relationship with him is respected, really

i really do accept it

I just don't understand why our friendship

has to feel so contraceptive?

as if we're not connected

acting like you never felt it

on that kilburn station underground night

when the rain and light hit your hair just right

and i suppose you've never been able to know

for when we kissed your eyes where closed

but me, i found it too hard to believe

so mine where open

trust me, in that moment, 

time moved in slow motion and

in each raindrop was our reflection

that's why I still have these emotions

two years by and I'm still haunted

by this beautiful past

and it's only when I'm looking back

this new future has hits me too fast

too hard are these two hearts to last

further than.. us? fuck.
hear what I'm saying

I'm not saying it right.

hear what I'm saying I'm not saying it right

Hear what I'm saying I'm not saying it right

It's not about you me or him

it's about the loss of love at first sight

to the same thing

it wasn't about the fame

it was about hitting the stage
and no longer feeling the same old same

I'm not insane for saying this, right?

just understand, i don't need all this

to be up there, i would pause

every applause

and give back every clap

because when with you

I didn't have to act

and i don't even want it back

i know it sounds distorted

to want to go back to when

i wanted to go forward
because what was
still is and that's flawed

and you don't need to know this

but as i go on and ramble
as i always seem to do

i get closer

and i realize, I'm was saying it right.

I just... didn't want to say it.

to my second best friend

drowning my sorrows at a party, her hair
becomes a lamp post, shinning a light
on a night that was so close to being lost
the kid drunkenly walks towards.
"This guy is not a threat"
the club was big but not in V.I.P.
after-work actors do extra acting off-stage it seems
jumping off sofas, rolling on the ground
really, like you're that drunk.
"Actually he's right I'm very unthreatening"



and turned it into a cross between
the best and the worst moments of my life.
for weeks on end you where a friend
then for about a year i was pretty sure
I'd never see you again.
but there was a return.
and life was never the same
we tried for a relationship that wasn't
a relationship. It was rather ridiculous,
you can't tell someone you love them
fuck them then turn around and introduce them
as "just a friend". it was bound to end
and end badly and end badly it did.
with many tears but only from one side
it seemed the love you gave was a lie
for i never saw you care to try
looking back, maybe i tried hard
enough for the both of us.
i put the winter months behind me
and tried with you too
but being without a thunderbolt
was something Lightfoot just couldn't do
it seemed like, to you
I've never been needed
but, i've learnt a few things since i was nineteen
and one is that not all things are as they seem
i think... i think i help. And...
yeah. Keep yourself good. be good. Nah. Keep good.
how do i put this? how do i tell you-you
you're what i think of when i think something right.
you're the light at the end of the tunnel
the smile someone would come home for
the eyes that make a hard life worthwhile
It's never been about the money
It's been about doing what you love
and sharing success with the people you love
and how can i bless if you're not flying with me?
like, flying above?
Like, looking like a dove?
looking good.
Looking like we should
in short,
the more you there is the happier I'll be.
read them. reach out. you'll never be denied
dude.

I couldn't if i tried.

the last subject. the last emotion.

I know it's not love
but, i promised myself i would stop feeling a certain way
no.
no it couldn't be because if it was we'd be
in deeper shit than i thought
but it isn't because I don't even like you.
no, that's not true, but i promised myself
(i promise myself a lot of things)
I promised to stop writing about that subject
yet neglect has not shown a rusted feel
like love was ever REAL. it's not. really.
there is no such thing, its a veil, a mask, a thing that refuses to last. then again it's hard to believe if you're a child of today where your parents where never IN love, or fell out if it.
yes if you're a teenager/ young adult of today it's hard to believe in it.
Me? I've seen it. felt it. but all i ever did was be in love. what happened to your goals, again?
have you seen these people?
it's so gross. have you ever talked to one of your friends in love? when all he ever says is "man, this is it. this is it. wow" and when you tell him how you fucking snuck around the prison level in splinter cell: double agent WITHOUT USING ONE BULLET he just says something along the lines of "yeah, i don't play video games anymore, I'm too busy having sex with the woman i love"
and how do i feel right now: angry. yes. because i fell into that spell i guess. I digressed. When time could have been better spent bettering myself i was too busy wondering how she felt.
check the poems. there are about a million of them.
don't fall deep in people. Love is a harsh thing and most people aren't ready for it. Get a job. Make some money. Love yourself and don't ever think you're below anyone else.

i don't know if this is a poem. i guess it is. for those who are wondering, obviously no the text has not been edited.

I'm me.
Yeah, I'm me.
Baby I'm me.
So who you?
Fuck you!
ha!
and i know that ain't fare
but i don't care
I'm a motherfuckin' cash money millionare.
I know that ain't fare but i don't care
I'm still a motherfuckin' cash money millionare biiitch!!!

ah weezy you make life so easy.

I remember when it WAS easy. I miss the days when my life was planned out easy. go boxing. go comedy clubs. go school. If i was still following that pattern today, i, man. i miss the comedy clubs. i miss the trainers of the times. school is different.

I'm in america and I miss my friends. Eve, Jade, Aimee, Dempsey. Hell, sometimes even Jim and Zia. I'm happy luka is around. i guess i've been hounding joey to hang out with me as soon as we get back to nyc (ahh rhymes are back) but none are a sister and none are a brother/Uwarrior.\\
Jokes in the kitchen eating the leftovers.
Jokes on the pitch shooting(and sometimes missing) hoops
Jokes that don't seem to get made anymore, laughing at fools on facebook, on youtube.
Jokes. I AM enjoying myself.
i should have brought a camera. so you could see what i see.

louise and simon are fantastic. especially louise. she is worried about me because she can tell when i feel sad. she knows im missing home but it's not her fault, i mean, being with them, waching tv, having supper, it just makes me miss my family.

I need to get to new york. everything will get better once i hit the nyc. i can...i just can there. the power of 'can'. ha! ahhh

the subject at hand was- fuck it. im not publishing this. here luka, from me to you.

The last poem

I know you said once, and thought about it

And if you did,
If you where to tattoo your wrists
Of all the things, you should tattoo this:
The loved one is.
Because Aimee, you are
If not by a, north Londoner
Then your mother and father
If not them, you got the princess
And if not Leah, then
Whoever has the honour
To call themselves
Your lover
Because the loved one is
And the loved one you are:
The lone wolf howling at the moon
Guided by the northern star
Showing up all those who regretted
Never taking it this far
Don’t keep that truth hid
And speak it to those
Who never knew or did, (Dig?)
If a world one wanted
Seemed too vast to start
Remember their expedition
Will keep such places apart
Removing home from the heart
Helps make your past only a part;
Giving your future useful tips
Like counting the ways
In which you are rich
(Light beneath the eyes, soft hands
Strong mind, true grit)
“And, like, man” if ever in doubt
Just…
Put these words to your lips:
The loved one I am,
(the loved one you are)
The loved one is-
Do you really need a tattoo
To remember this?
(Dig)

the last letter

know

your last may just be your best.

A typical Sean poem about a not so typical girl constantly in a love/hate relationship with the world and, it’s never for any good reason… because there never is one. It transcends success and failure. It’s poetry in motion. Even when it feels like it’s not- it is. A life that if was a graph would look like a rollercoaster but, at least you’re not still in neverwhere engaged to a guy who you KNOW when he gets older is going to pull his white socks up as high as he’ll wear those cream shorts you know? (With that dark brown leather belt? And the cheap sneakers?)

At times one lives not a life accepted, but know we never accepted, the life expected

so do do do do what you want to forsake these feelings just gives your past an excuse to haunt.

cheah.

What's inside

When the moon falls to the bottom of the sky
And the plants reach feathered clouds
My headed thoughts of pillows
Filled with black haired widows ugly
Blonde monsters at least ultimate warriors
Un-starved vultures to be the prettiest
Of all.
When my mind can comprehend
A helping hand cannot repent I shall
Breathe sea air. Jump from the rocks into despair
Hoping for a woman, longing for a friend
Begging for a sibling to hear my to hear my
Cry for a little more time. 
A day to get my shit
Together so I can weather the storm that is life
Because whatever thunder does,
If it is not for my advantage it will hurt
Hits not through but just in
like a slow bullet shot from
an old gun at the hands of a
classic cowboy wearing tattered rags
Worn out shoes; moccas I could only
Hope to walk a mile in.
Thoughts of cowboys eventually lead
to thoughts of you
the way most thoughts eventually do, 
I grab a backpack and fill it with
the memories of a kite hill view
a smile of someone I thought I knew
two lost heartbeats and a crickelwood crew
but nothing from you apart from the feeling
of horses riding without owners you distilled in me
and sadly, cream. Fortunately, dream: nothing
but a thing. and age ain't nothin' but a number
so like a fine wine I'll slumber
in the middle of summer of middle-
Oh America
I am yours.
the same way to the grave a hurst roars
or panic towards the sight of unlocked doors
So when the sun rises higher than heaven
and when the love of one stops me guessin'
and when we're all alone., together.
Have him hold my place for now honey
so when I get my shit together
(as I said earlier)
The storm that is life can just feel like a
summer breeze so weez wheeze like
our heart has sneezed at my shocking
nose bleedz. so he can take my place
but let him know, any time I want it
I could take it, but something inside me says
if i had it, I probably wouldn't even want it
so let me run. run like sonic collecting
golden rings chaos emeralds only things;
just like dreams. Just like age. Just like money,
and I think of money
and just as always
I think of you
and how you struggled, what you had to go through
Oh America
I am you!
Razor love is playing.
I wonder if my love could cut clean through
and just like all wonder
if things could get better if they found something new
what do you want with me?
some days you forget how I should be dealt with
but it's my fault.
I keep forgetting the very sight of you
causes pain but i love you so much
I'll do it again.
and i think of hurt
and just like all thoughts...
Oh America
Help me pull through.

On that day on the way

Whether driver or passenger
We ride together
Ready to fight whenever
And laugh forever
Like the Northmen,
We're Depending on each other
But obviously
We look a little better

Our heart's been known to wither
I don't think I could do without her
She keeps me a steady fella
Her lips my umbrella-ella
I'll love her until I die
And if you don't know
Just check the eyes
When she leaves I'm not the same
She's the girl who hates the game
And I wont back down again
No I wont back down again

Your gift and curse is felt
Times I've wished another hand were dealt
But maybe our presence can be felt
After all,
I have the pen
And you read my page
We'll run for mountains
Away from our age
Like the last sage
Trapped in Loki's maze
If only our peers
Could understand our rage
At the actors and
The Writers
In this mediocre haze
Drive for days and days
Live by our cowboy desert ways
Writing books forever
Every stage shall feel our thunder
And while we're drunk on laughter
We'll see imitators pinning after

And though my anger
Will never die
I take comfort
In you hearing me cry
Not a coincidence that
The one who understands
is the only one who will listen
and we don't need Swiss cottage
underground for your
hair to glisten
and in these words
just listen clear
and in these words
just listen clear:
as long as we're near
You wont ever have to fear
And I will always be near
because the loved one
Is loved around here.

Love of you.

When we first met, I loved the look of you.
Golden locks and ragged glory a lovely view

Then as we talked, I loved the idea of you
Such freedom and soul brilliantly new

Then we parted, and I loved the memory of you
What little there was had to make do

Then we reunited and, I loved the darkness of you
No. That's not true,

-It was not the darkness but that dim
Light of hope that shone through-

Then we kissed and, I loved the feel of you
Tender warmth and sweeter than honeydew

Now only in quick meetings can I try to love you
Imagine an elephants foot and Bliss' ballet shoe

Though these fleeting moments I eagerly await,
I'd rather just leave for the United States

But to be real honest and true it was never
The feel, look or light that shone through...

All I ever loved was/is/will simply forever wholly encompassing, only and all be; You.

and...

Thunderbolt and Lightfoot.

The world hurts and

and it hurts

to see a hero fall

especially when this one

taught you how to stand tall

I understand that
If I ever came to you
in need of someone to talk to
you'd open your door
and let my heart pour
But can I depend on you
to make me the first person
you look to?
when in need of someone
to pull you through?

You promise not to ditch me
when another man stumbles in,
you wont drop me when you find him?
It was hard enough when I first left
to do it again there probably wont be
much of me left.
Just, you know that I know we know
more than most
We got it. I don't know how rare it is
but dude I don't want to lose this.
Not again.
So are we going to keep strong?
No matter what happens in our lives
Will we be the ones to talk to
about inspiration?
when in need of motivation?
and talk about any complication?
no matter our-how do i say- situation?

I hope so.
Man I hope so.

You are-

The Monroe to my Miller
The Lane to my Kent
The Bonnie to my Clyde
The Budden to my Tahiry
The Calliope to my Dream
The Leila to my Han Solo
The Knowles to my Carter
The Watson to my Parker
The Laura to my Shadow
The Bergman to my Bogart
The Hammond to my V
The models to my Palmer
The Wilma to my Fred
The Marge to my Homer
The Ardee to my Glokta
The Plant to my Page
The Alabama to my Clarence
The Heart to my beat
The feet to my street
The Peggi to my Young
The Rotolo to my Dylan
The rotolo because,
The The The The The
The beginning and end
The lover and friend
The way it will (it will) end-
Just know I couldn't
have asked for a better way
for my time to have been spent
and to no other girl i lay
will my heart be so easily lent.

You're not seeing him on wednesday. (but maybe in a few thursdays?)

how could you see him when he's mutual friends with a time you're trying to
forget? to look at him would mean to face the deserted dream. it's too hard. he's too nice. you're too hurt. you're too far gone. swallowed under as he stands beating over like the midday sun. You're on the run. He's crushed. He's laughing. it's just a misunderstanding. the prodigal son has come and would rather hook your arm than do you harm though you'd depart and stray towards... what? He doesn't know. You're keeping secrets. She knows. and knows. You're lying. He's breaking. Guitars are playing and memories are fading if his meeting was meaning you knew there'd be dreaming there's no way you'd be coming because you've got to-as said before-get running. So it's all wrong. he stands upon. great things but with no one beside to walk along. lonesome road he's back on. you're surrounded in praise but when the lights are off you daze in wonder, wonder if he's okay. if he's still standing strong facing the day. you hope he's strong. he's not alone. but you know. he is. and he's dying. but now it's bed time and you tell yourself you're kidding and really should be sleeping. without a prodigal son who'd rather keep you warm than do you harm who'd stay away if he thought it'd improve your day. and it does. and it will. until....... the dream returns.

Fear for thoughts.

It hurts to love you
but it hurts more
to be without you
 
Not wanting to crowd
but don't want you thinking
I don't want to be around
A million thoughts
run through my mind
at the speed of sound
at the exact same time
 
"Does she still want me,
Physically?"
"Can't go back to how things where"
"Maybe she wants to go back
to how things where?"
"To close myself now I'd
be shut down forevermore"
 
It's like
we're hiding
and that's
hurting
When alone
when we're at home
she falls to my grace
and I relax, cry,
laugh and lie
with her.
 
I wish she'd just
jump in with me
instead I'm
Falling
She's
Watching
He's in the wings
waiting
they're in the theatre
acting
badly
gossiping
about me.
 
You... understand right?
All I want to do is hold you tight
but if you pretend
we are not
what we are
how can you expect me
to stay the night?
 
I wish I could tell you
That
I'm not a killer
but I'd kill for you
and that
I'm not a quitter
but I'd die for you
but come on,
would you want me to?
Because while it hurts to love you
and it hurts more to be without you
I'll die before before I ever burden you.

baby it's black outside

This red is a loss

It was black i missed.

Change it back because

it was black i promised

forever love for both of us.

It was black i kissed

and swirled in endless lust.

It was black black bllllaaack!

(The streaks do not highlight

but exaggerate for the eyes

already show enough

they're bright

like all the things i've said before

... And more.                                                  )

But if black hurts

and red is strong

If history makes it worse,

then flame on

If you want freedom from the curse

(the curse of loving one)

Then stray from the hurst

the true colour

of the forever loved one.

Slowly but surely vanity creeps up on me.

I've had enough of dressing like a kid. Enough of looking like a feeling like a kid. I want to hurry up and be the man I know I can be the one that's inside of me. Or maybe he isn't. Maybe this guy needs to be found through hard work and dedication to the causes I believe in. If only there were some causes I believed in. To be completely honest I'm telling all of you right now I'm not going back. Not to my old stomping ground or ways. I have to be egotistical and vain and let myself know I'm better than the people I met and the things I did to them the things I did with them. No sleeping around in body or mind (thanks camera obscura). So that's gone. I'm now a blank slate. I have less friends than fingers but thankful for it. I will build with laugh drink fight and die for them. And only them. I learnt something harsh already: not everyone wants the same thing as me especially something I've been longing for badly. What I'm supposed to think is that my life isn't a story it's just a life but I don't think that's quite right despite understanding I'm not giving up on that notion. That life isn't a story. It is. And that's why I like writing. I'm supposed to be writing now but this is what I'm thinking and inside my head it keeps rocking and racking my brain it's not pain but it draws my eyebrows down and my sunny demeanor isn't what it should be. But I've never been one for moaning or having a love that's unrequited so I'll just face it and it'll be accepted and already it's easier to deal with. Just, came so close to the end of lonely almost finding serendipity only to be plucked into something that I suppose will eventually been told apparently will-of course- be better for me. Fuck me if I wasn't fucked already. So what I'm doing is stand up comedy a little poetry writing a play and spending more time with my family. Stand up is slacking but only because that stuff is hardly temporary after all I may be doing that for my eternity that may be the beginning of how I make proper money. Poetry is easy because my minds just come from swimming in love and now I can write that down and get back into the groove. The play's the thing and that too I've been struggling. The subject is just so close though but maybe seeing as my actual lesson is learnt the story can now have somewhere to go. Despite having such good company (daily) I still get urges to leave this place like Ricky. But even he said this city is in me. I don't love Camden town I hate and am Camden town and hate that I am it. I feel this place owes me something and maybe in my unsaid vanity I believe this city, this city yeah it kind of needs me. To show the pretenders that lie daily and the beautiful and funny stories that could only be (and again with the vanity) told by me. So I'll be doing me. Let him breathe please. Just a moment before I do something drastic and reek havoc on a bunch of punters who probably couldn't H-and-L handle it. I'm going to let thunderbolt take the wheel temporarily, make the Ultimate Warrior understand that I'm doing my thing you see on friday finally hang with Dempsey finally and maybe, maybe slowly with working and dedicating I can someday be the man I hope to be. But how many comedians do poetry?

White knight of light

Your warmth brings me forward
My heart beats
In my arms you become weak
To stretch bent neck legs arch
Garments:
Torn apart
Dressed in moonlight
Look down, our noses
touch
Eyes meet
Know where it’s gone going and we
We have only just begun
Each kiss as if it's the first and last one
Constantly inhaling taking sharing
Each breath from each others lungs
Those delicate fingers crunch
Your eyes close and the smile no one gets to see-
Apart from me-
Is revealed and (has
More beauty, than all poetry;
No words are worthy)
Beneath the eyelids see;
Each curve kissed caressed
Heart thumping inside your chest
Panting breathing heavy unable
To neither commune nor kiss
This bliss
Such beauty unmatched
An unbreakable being a beautiful thing
bend not snapped
pulled hair lip bitten back collapsed
Change and
                    Tumble
                          and Roll and
Hips swerve, dip
Like nothing before
Gentle, you’re so gentle
Sweeter than perceived
More innocent than believed
For there is no sin
in awakening an overslept grin
you I believe in flesh more than skin
win strong no longer thin
taken to places my body hasn't been
and then, fin.
Again eyes meet
Laughter received
Both so relieved
And hug
Hold
“This is nice”
“it doesn’t get any better”
“This is the best. the best ever”
"Forever."

Baby it's cold outside.

I grow off words and feed off speeches
My brain doesn't house creativity
just prose-hungry leaches
Neil Young Neil Young Neil Young Neil Young
Where am I from where am I from? Bob Dylan Dylan
See this blonde hair
shinning underneath the swiss cottage underground light the light it stares
Pick this out Pick this out Pick this out
You who shouts me who stares she who listen's
See how that blonde hair glistens
the black mascarra doesn't highlight
It exaggerates because her eyes already show enough
They're, bright
Like a cowgirl in the sand
Like a ruby in the dust
Like the woman of my dreams
and the guitar solo inbetween
they speak
I wonder if she'll save me
I wish she'll make me feel alright
because while it's cold outside
If I can keep looking into those eyes
I'll be warm enough tonight.