#cole
www.youtube.com/watch?v=h4UqMyldS7Q&list=PLbM5LMVZad0YmCXr99fAtAHetTUX2BWj8&index=2&t=0s
Jun 12, 2020
Jun 12, 2020 at 1:02 PM UTC
I have come to cherish the lucky-dice nights when the Adderall just lingers, staying late—
much later
than times of near-lethal lethargy
that leads to interrupted comatose slumber
I’ve allied with the recurring habits of winning Most Sober of the Evening, for in my solace, I’m dropping the needle, dancing to Molly's Lips and kicking off damp, muddy socks
I feel somewhere—-myself,
a place you
may
have touched and try to burn a placebo curvature along a place you
may
once have ignited,
your artificial fingertips,
and trace the beginning of a word, but
I lose track where ever the middle
may
have been
Needle scratch, loop, stuck in one, or
many
grooves
Try to exhaust the corporeal, sway,
fall,
slam body against the wall
Memorialize yourself so no one has to,
Your storage-unit temple drinking from a dark green bottle
Shimmy with a crowbar, lift and uncover,
Toss it all in a trash pile
For God to rediscover
Apr 16, 2020
Apr 16, 2020 at 4:55 PM UTC
I should hate more than I do
But I won't because that's draining
I should have loved you forever
But I won't because you've haven't loved me
Since December
Jul 29, 2016
Jul 29, 2016 at 12:20 AM UTC
black as night
staining everything he touches
filling and damaging the lungs
of that minor miner girl
who was just trying
to find the diamonds within him
but what she didn't know
was that he had only one diamond
it was the minor miner girl
and he gave her away
so now she feels poor
but someday she'll see
that she is a rarity
dear minor miner girl
I am but a jewelry cleaner
but I love you always.
May 4, 2016
May 4, 2016 at 7:34 PM UTC
Our labyrinthine of language
simultaneously dividing - unifying.
Able of conjuring mellifluous daydreams
halcyon memories and dulcet tones.
Remarkably flexible in creative hands
yet inefficient, insignificant compared to touch.
Blooming equally as well in light and shade.
Every rose bush has it thorns.
Beware to remove them before offering a bouquet
as no one likes a *****
Sep 23, 2014
Sep 23, 2014 at 4:55 AM UTC
Who is more creative than our creator ?
Mysterious
All knowing
Merciful
Forgiver
Redeemer
Father
Friend
Giver
Soul healer
Maker
Love and Joy
Peace and patience
Pen and paintbrush
Oh Mr. Cole,
I do not mean to rush,
These words spring forth from a dam,
But the creator of creation
He says "I Am".
Sep 20, 2014
Sep 20, 2014 at 1:43 AM UTC
Lights flicker
Blood drips
Brilliant mind
At my finger tips
Don't look now
Gotta think quick
What have I done?
Oh! I know a trick
Slice it up thin
Tiny little bits
So much mess
Hmm, maybe a mince
Red and juicy
Smells so devine
Mouth watering
Just like last time
So heavenly
It should be a crime
Down to the bone
I carve a rhyme
My name etched like stone
A deadly shrine
No where left to go
But back into my mind
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
Until next time....
Sep 18, 2014
Sep 18, 2014 at 10:31 PM UTC
From quiet homes and first beginning, Out to the undiscovered ends, There's nothing worth the wear of winning, But laughter and the love of friends.
Hilaire Belloc (1870-1953), British author. "Dedicatory Ode," Verses (1910).
Dear Parents
*Thank you for deciding after two years of marriage to have a child, me.
Sorry I wasn't the boy that so many of my family desired, sorry I was late, sorry that you missed the "Rumble in the Jungle", if it's any consolation I know who won.
How I came to be is quite beyond me. Father's family disliked mothers and vice versa. Dad a steelworker, Mam a trainee chef, dad flipped a coin with a mate, my mother was the stake.
Four years later sister came along, then another four years the son, that so many yearned for made an appearance.
I saved my sister's life from my grandparent's dog, lost an ear in that battle, a bit like Van Gogh. Plastic surgery at seven, still hate Cocker Spaniels to this day. I tell everyone I saved her from a rabid Doberman (I know parents, there's no Rabies in Great Britain) what did I get for my trouble? A stuffed white cat and a sister that I made sit in a cow pat.
Thank you parents for sending me to a school that made other kids suspicious of me. A welsh medium school, might as well have been Hogwarts, but they taught me well, (I can swear in five languages) and read and spell.
Dad taught me how to head **** mam you taught me how to make cake.
My sister taught me how to share, my brother taught me how really not to care. Live each day as if it may be your last, I told my brother that often.
Dad, one of 13 kids, mam one of 3, like me. Dad, I hate your sisters that are alive they remind me of the Moirai, or the three witches from Macbeth, I've tried to like them but I'm terrible at lying, and to be honest they are in their late 70's so they must be close to dying.
Mam, your sister is a lesbian, I think her army days gave that away. Your brother like mine a source of consternation a Navy man that never went to sea????
Now, my grandparents are all dead. Apparently, I have inherited my father's mother's temper. She disappeared for 3 days when she thought she'd killed my grandad!
I'm married now, no rug rats thank God, I'm aunty material, selfish and wicked.
Now, this sounds I know a little quaint and odd, but I know we've had our share of bad luck, but, 42 years wed, still in the family home, surrounded by trees, neighbours we've known for years and people we'd like to poison. But,we've laughed so hard mam you have a hernia, dad you are the male equivalent of a **** you'll be flirting in the OAP home **** yes, sorry parents as one of your three I get to pick the residential home! And, as they say,that is a good life.
Jo **
P.s I didn't mention our family mental illnesses, early 20th century communism, possible adultery, coveting the neighbours Ford Capri, or pet cemetery in the garden. I'll wait til all are dead then spill about the good secrets.*
Sep 16, 2014
Sep 16, 2014 at 8:46 PM UTC
I see you in the Fall
The red leaves whipping in the wind like your hair flowing behind you.
The chaotic movement connect to something
strong
sturdy
safe.
I see you in the fall.
The wind screaming in my ear
like you when the schizophrenia kicked in
terrifying
but beautiful
in a broken sort of way.
I see you in the fall.
Like the flowers that bend towards the slightest glimmer of sunlight
just as you would hold onto any ray of hope that came your way
like it was the last time you'd see it
I see you in the fall
as the trees show their branches
it leaves falling like your hair did
Beautiful
despite it's baldness
I saw you in the fall.
But now it's winter and like the leaves on the trees
You are gone.
Sep 16, 2014
Sep 16, 2014 at 3:17 PM UTC
Take my hand, as we walk this terrain.
To the place where upon a branch a woman was hanged.
For stealing grain to make bread, ensuring that her children fed.
Look upwards, crane your head, a woman killed for baking bread.
Now, take my hand and look overland, where grains of sand make up this barren land. From barren life hanging in a tree, to barren sand eroded by sea, come to me. Come away child.
Let's build a sand castle and forget the fear in grains and sand.
Sep 13, 2014
Sep 13, 2014 at 9:07 PM UTC
The next time you hold in your hands,
The tiniest little grains of sand
Think of how precious the smallest things can be
Like diamonds, or newborn babies feet.
Then think of the world as a grain of sand
Tiny, precious, and in someone else's hands
If we're lucky, they'll lay us gently back on the beach.
If not, by tomorrow we'll be within the tides reach.
Sep 11, 2014
Sep 11, 2014 at 10:19 PM UTC
Rita heard the doorbell go
A-DANG-A-DONG-A-DING!
She put aside her favorite book
And ran outside to take a look,
But at the door, well wouldn't you know
She didn't find a thing!
She went inside and sat down
And then it went again,
A-DING-A-DONG-A-DONG-A-DANG!
The doorbell chimed, the door bell rang,
She ran outside and looked around
But once again in vain!
Rita felt so very cross,
"I've had enough!" she said!
Instead of rushing back inside
She looked for somewhere she could hide
And found a patch of comfy moss
And made herself a bed!
It wasn't long when Rita heard
A-DING-A-DANG-A-DONG!
And there upon a fluttered wing,
A hummingbird began to sing,
Such beauty in his trilling words
That Rita joined the song!
When the chimes came to an end,
The hummingbird looked glum;
He gave the bell a mighty clang,
The door bell rang, and then he sang!
And Rita laughed at her new friend,
She'd never had such fun!
Smiling still, she went indoors
To read the next few lines;
Short-lived was her tranquility,
And solitude was not to be!
She giggled as he played once more
Those humming door bell chimes!
Sep 5, 2014
Sep 5, 2014 at 8:18 AM UTC
Rita bustled busily,
To decorate each room
With jack-o'-lanterns, giggling ghouls,
And grinning ghosts with dribbled drools,
And moonlight glimmered spookily
On ghastly painted tombs;
She went to fetch her costume
And hoped it wouldn't itch;
She grabbed a strange and pointed hat,
An odd shaped broom, a stuffed black cat,
And in the mirror of her room
She turned into a witch!
A sudden tap-tap-tapping
Came from her green front door;
She opened it excitedly,
A-wondering who it might be
And then she started clapping
And dancing on the floor!
Her good friend Fox was outside,
He wore a long black cape;
With plastic fangs, he danced about,
But when he sang his fangs fell out!
They laughed so hard, then went inside
And had a slice of cake!
Aug 29, 2014
Aug 29, 2014 at 5:32 PM UTC
Rita was a battery hen
And every day was bleak;
For her, life's stage was just a cage,
And meagre corn her only wage,
But things all changed for Rita when
She learned that she could speak.
She overheard the farmer say
*"That cage is getting weak,
That's not just dust, but flakes of rust
And if the hens gave one quick ******
They'd all be free to run away
And we'd be up the creek!"*
She waited till the dark of night,
Then pushed into the gaps;
The bars were old, the bars were cold,
It seemed as though the bars would hold,
But Rita shoved with all her might
And felt the cage collapse!
She ran right out the farmyard
In the moonlight, dim and pale;
No more is known of where she's flown,
I hope she found a lovely home,
Perhaps she'll send a greeting card
To tell of her next tale!
Aug 23, 2014
Aug 23, 2014 at 5:08 AM UTC
Running my fingers
Through your too long hair.
Finding out you don't care how much
I want to touch you, that's rare.
Sliding along, every inch of your smooth skin
Mouth tingling, thinking, not knowing where to begin
Being touched, from head to toe
Licking my lips, wondering where you'll go
Staring into your eyes, knowing there's nothing between us
Leaning back moaning, feeling all the love and lust
Knowing that all you want is me too
That's my freedom, simply having you.
Aug 22, 2014
Aug 22, 2014 at 9:47 PM UTC
I'm just a lonely little leaf
So small, so insignificant
But in my dreams, I hold belief
That I could be magnificent
My skin would gleam of emerald green
To ward off snow and beckon spring
My fettered branch would welcome teems
Of chorus birds to dance and sing
My life would know such happy times
As wild winds lift me up for laughs
To flutter onto railway lines
And halt the trains upon their tracks
Yet in the morning, when I wake
From slumbered dreams, I find relief
In knowing god made no mistake
With me, his lonely little leaf
Aug 14, 2014
Aug 14, 2014 at 8:31 PM UTC
Quivering here in the end of summer breeze
Tinged at the edges and speckled with decay
Drinking in the iridescent evening suns rays
Autumn is but a few blustery storms away
Retirement has not quite caught up with me
Winter is thankfully still 1.5 seasons at bay
But when my time comes, I'll happily fall
For when mother nature calls we all must obey
Aug 14, 2014
Aug 14, 2014 at 7:25 PM UTC
They grow.
Some on trees so tall
Some on bushes,
So very small.
They fall.
Such a long way to the ground
Fluttering and floating all the way down.
They all die.
Such a pity how a beauty growing up high
Lives such a short life only to die.
They're remembered.
When you think back to the beautiful summer,
You remember the colors covering the trees
Just think how dull the forest would be
Without all those Leaves
Aug 14, 2014
Aug 14, 2014 at 6:53 PM UTC
Stalking wild pray,
Creeping quiet as the wind,
Yes, it is I, Cole.
Apr 3, 2014
Apr 3, 2014 at 8:15 AM UTC
Dear Marc (like cheese),
Your hair is soft (like cheese),
Your bed smells cool (like cheese),
Your chin is squishy (like cheese).
I like your basement (like cheese),
I like your drums (like cheese),
I like the ground (like cheese),
I like bubble pipes (like cheese).
Your socks are black (like cheese),
Your eyes are blue (like cheese),
Your hair is yellow (like cheese),
Your floor is carpet (like cheese).
You like cabbage poems (like cheese),
You like play station (like cheese),
You like cigar smoke (like cheese),
You like chocolate (like cheese).
I like your style (like cheese),
I like that you dance (like cheese),
I like your childishness (like cheese),
I like Pokemon (like cheese).
You are tall (like cheese),
You are white (like cheese),
You are my friend (like cheese),
You are Marc (like cheese).
I AM COLE (unlike cheese)
Apr 3, 2014
Apr 3, 2014 at 8:08 AM UTC