wonder wow

Wonder Wow

two shiny star children
met under disco lights.
danced, drank, drowned
in love, liquor and fights.

with faux fur and fake fury,
two star children
collided, collapsed
in absolute hurry.
orbiting earth/ walking among us
their celestial love made mountains
out of miles of magic dust.

earthbound,
their powers weakened
their language was unspoken
the lights and the fights
simply stayed broken.

two shiny star children
presently pressed in paper,
adhered with sticky spray,
and flatly filed away
were perhaps to sparkly
to ever really stay.

despite the furious fists,
we remember them fondly
(now).
we wonder the why.
we wonder the where.
we wonder the how.
we wonder the wow.

don't ask me

don't ask me

The guy is a tool.
You two won't last.
You're acting a fool.
It's moving too fast.
The end will be cruel
and you'll be out on your ass.

Yet I don't say this shit today.
I mind my own damn business.
And try to stay out of the way.
After all, who wants bitter advice
from somebody looking for a fight?


Even in silence
My rolling eyes say
"I told you so"
my crossed arms say
"Girl, I know."
I've bombed at the love game
and I feel like everyone else will too.
This is fatalistic and far from true.

So just don't ask me
if he loves you
or if I think it's moving too fast.
Or if his mother will be cool
or what I know about his past.
This game, like I said
has really kicked my ass.
So please
just don't ask.

- Sean Mahoney 1/11/2010

maybe later by Sean Mahoney

Maybe Later

Roll me 'round in flour
Dip me in a batter.
Fry me until golden brown
and serve me, warm, on a platter.
Or let me bask under the heat lamp
shoulder to shoulder
with coconut shrimp
and foiled wrapped taters.
I know I have a life to live
but I'll get to it
maybe later.

Right this second does not work for me.
Right this minute I need to be directed,
I need to be seasoned. I need to be kneaded.
I need to be savored. I need to be protected.

The rest of the day
might just get pittered away.
The endless fussing and fighting
crying and writing
can't work right now.
But maybe later....

- Sean Mahoney 1/11/10

After Whoa by Sean Mahoney

After Whoa

its like holy shit.
its like this is it.
its like oh no.
its like whoa.
but after the crash,
when the mirror has smashed
and the hotel room's been trashed
what's after that?

what is on the next page?
what is left behind on the stage?
do you implode in a rage
or just quietly fade?

Sifting through the ashes
is what comes after whoa.
picking up the pieces
while trying to lay low.
tears rinse off the wreckage.
clothes get picked up off the floor.
the phone is answered.
you wander to the store.

yet maybe you freeze
and thaw real slow.
best not to rush it
so soon after whoa.

Sean Mahoney 1/6/10

2010- new year, new poetry, and new attitude.

The great Peggy Lee once sang "if that's all there is my friends then let's keep dancing." I tend to agree with Ms. Lee. I think we might as well spend our time doing what we love as our eventual fate is inevitable. For me that means spending much of 2010 writing. It saves my ass. It frees me from crazy thoughts. It makes me, well, me.

So below is a petite, new poem to kick off my participation in the 2010 Poetry Challenge. I am just going to sit down at the keyboard and let most of these poems happen. I've spent far too much time editing and hand wringing over writing in the past so to just expel new works at a rapid and carefree rate will be something new for me. Check back daily to see the latest developments in this poetic experiment.

Happy New Year!

Untitled- by Sean Paul Mahoney

Untitled

nothing exploded.

nobody yelled.

in the dark

the old numbers

just quietly fell.

time slid on his jacket

and slipped out the door.

the adventure that was

simply wasn't

anymore.

- Sean Paul Mahoney 1/1/10