"cole" poems
I cut the middle fingernail of the middle
finger
right hand
real short
and I began rubbing along her ****
as she sat upright in bed
spreading lotion over her arms
face
and *******
after bathing.
then she lit a cigarette:
"don't let this put you off,"
an smoked and continued to rub
the lotion on.
I continued to rub the ****
"You want an apple?" I asked.
"sure, she said, "you got one?"
but I got to her-
she began to twist
then she rolled on her side,
she was getting wet and open
like a flower in the rain.
then she rolled on her stomach
and her most beautiful ***
looked up at me
and I reached under and got the
**** again.
she reached around and got my
**** she rolled and twisted,
I mounted
my face falling into the mass
of red hair that overflowed
from her head
and my flattened **** entered
into the miracle.
later we joked about the lotion
and the cigarette and the apple.
then I went out and got some chicken
and shrimp and french fries and buns
and mashed potatoes and gravy and
cole slaw,and we ate.she told me
how good she felt and I told her
how good I felt and we
ate the chicken and the shrimp and the
french fries and the buns and the
mashed potatoes and the gravy and
the cole slaw too.
69.4k
the heavy heart is a heathen
corrupter of better nature
committer of soul-treason
fueled by the miserable notion
that death is twilight
and life is dawn
to flight, to flail
to rage, to rail
to weep, to wail
to no avail
to unhope
and all of this minus the mercy
©Jason Cole
Apr 9, 2015
Apr 9, 2015 at 7:40 PM UTC
Paint my heart as empty
all blue and black and grey
Around it perforate a circle
from beginning back to start
Paint it very gently
then quickly pull away
Tearing it out
without ripping it apart
Someday they'll surely place it
in the Gallery of Fools
Inside the Wailing Walls
out past the Hall of Shame
And when the people face it
they'll cherish their own hearts
As if anatomy has
anything to do with pain
©Jason Cole
May 22, 2016
May 22, 2016 at 4:02 PM UTC
Blue is the color of unrequited love
Grey the emptiness therein
Paint a perfect portrait of the loneliness thereof
And color me lonesome again
©Jason Cole
Apr 30, 2015
Apr 30, 2015 at 6:36 PM UTC
THERE'S RUDOLPH, FROSTY, SANTA CLAUS AND GOOD OLD EBENEEZER
THERE'S CAROLS SUNG BY EVERYONE FROM KISS ON THROUGH TO WHEEZER
THERE'S CD'S OUT FROM NAT KING COLE, THE BOSTON POPS HAVE TWO
THERE'S ONE OUT NEIL DIAMOND WHICH IS STRANGE BECAUSE OLD NEIL'S A JEW
THE STORES HAVE TINSEL EVERYWHERE, THEIR TREES TOO,LOOKING NICE
THERE'S WRAPPING PAPER, CHRISTMAS LIGHTS AND EVEN PLASTIC ICE
THEY ATTACK YOUR SENSES CONSTANTLY, THEY MUST THINK I'M A FOOL
FOR ALL THIS STUFF IS ON DISPLAY, BEFORE THE KIDS GO BACK TO SCHOOL
THERE'S A RASTAFARIAN SANTA CLAUS WITH DREADLOCKS KNOWN AS "STONEY"
GENETICALLY ALTERED TURKEY MEAT THAT TASTES JUST LIKE BALONEY
PEOPLE DON'T BUY CHRISTMAS GIFTS THEY SEEM TO JUST GIVE MONEY
SO THEY GO SHOPPING BOXING DAY, AND THIS I FIND QUITE FUNNY
THE CHARITIES ARE ON THE PHONE AND AT YOUR DOOR EACH NIGHT
THEY WORK YOU WITH SOME CHRISTMAS GUILT, AND SAY "IT'S ONLY RIGHT"
TO DONATE TO UNFORTUNATES AND THEIR FOLKS NEED IT MOST"
AS THEY FLASH THEIR SMILES, FAKE I/D'S BEFORE THEIR PHONY BOAST
PEOPLE SHOP AND BUY AND BUY AND THEN THEY ALL RE-GIFT
MOST TIMES YOU'LL GET CHRISTMAS CAKE, THAT'S REALLY HARD TO LIFT
YOU WORK O.T. AND DO YOUR BEST, YOUR CHRISTMAS CASH TO SAVE
AND YOU SMILE WHEN YOU GET YOUR GIFT, AND IT'S THE ONE YOU GAVE
CHRISTMAS IS LESS FESTIVE AND TO ME IT'S GOTTEN RATHER CLINICAL
WITH SCHEDULES MADE AND SALES AND THINGS, IT'S MADE ME RATHER CYNICAL
TO SAY WHAT CHRISTMAS REALLY MEANS, I READ THOMAS ACQUINAS
BUT INSTEAD, I'LL USE A QUOTE FROM SHCULTZ'S PROPHET LINUS
..."AND SUDDENLY THERE WAS WITH THE ANGEL A MULTITUDE OF THE HEAVENLY HOST PRAISING GOD
AND SAYING "GLORY TO GOD IN THE HIGHEST, AND ON EARTH PEACE, GOODWILL TOWARD MEN.""
AND THAT IS WHAT CHRISTMAS IS ALL ABOUT....PLAIN AND SIMPLE.
May 30, 2012
May 30, 2012 at 3:13 PM UTC
There is a frozen lake with a grand piano in the center of it.
There is an older man playing songs from our childhood as we stand around him and sing the words to his music.
The cool breeze is getting cooler and snow is threatening to fall at any second...
But there is soup on the stove and warm couch for us to sit together and lay down.
Drink a glass of wine, raise a glass for all our times.
Smiles, tears, dances and doors slammed.
Children born, parents gone, friends say hello and just as quickly say goodbye...
The old man is tickling the ivory and the ebony keys - songs like brown eyed girl and I guess that's why they call it the blues. He plays Cole Porter and Ira Gershwin tunes too...
We hold hands and I want to take you in my arms and sweep you off your feet, fly away to another world...another time...
But the lake is frozen, the snow is beginning to fall and the soup is on the stove...I can smell it from here...
So say goodbye to the sadness, say goodbye to that old man, playing Fire and Rain...maybe tomorrow we can do this all again.
Feb 1, 2015
Feb 1, 2015 at 2:37 PM UTC
First day we met I thought you were so beautiful.
No one could tell me any different this was irrefutable.
I caught feelings for you like a fool.
What was I thinking you would go for me in high school.
I used to make you laugh and make you smile.
Seeing you happy keep me going for a while.
We used to sit outside for hours looking at the stars.
Tell each other how this world was going to be ours.
I felt like J. Cole straight power trippin.
Wondering if I was going to be part of your life decision.
But I should've known better from your tone.
I was only good for you in the friend zone.
Instead you'd date guys who are bad from the start.
Who would do nothing other than just break your heart.
Of course I'd be there to comfort you, saying you were strong.
Wondering why I couldn't be your boyfriend all along.
Fast forward years later I finally told you how I felt.
When you didn't feel the same way my heart started to melt.
You made me feel alone and broken.
Filled with overwhelming emotion.
Everyday I try to forget about you.
Knowing love is never true.
Because of you, I play women like an imposter.
You're my Dr. Frankenstein girl, and I am your monster.
Mar 6, 2017
Mar 6, 2017 at 6:54 PM UTC
I remember tottering
in too-high heels,
and rolling through
the Hollywood Hills.
I remember the tide,
pummeling the pier,
as your saline lips
pressed against my cheek.
I remember coffee
and candy apples
and cole slaw
and swisher sweets.
I remember
mellow-minded sugar drops
and static-energy power pills.
I remember your smell
on my skin
and your tingle
on my tongue.
Jul 1, 2011
Jul 1, 2011 at 7:55 AM UTC
your clean lips and serene eyes
are instruments
they, with fearless precision
play
those neatly folded tufts of skin on either side
are speakers
they, with unnatural ease
amplify
the epidermal pyramid sloping symmetrically
amid your instruments
is a songstress
she, with innate necessity
sings the song of life
your head is a concert
music to my troubled eyes
©Jason Cole
Mar 23, 2015
Mar 23, 2015 at 10:22 PM UTC
Cole Phillips
A warm jungle night.
A jaguar stalking its prey with fright.
The sound of the light rain and wind.
The lonely ant eater has no idea what is lurking in the dark.
A perfect target for such beast.
The night grows long and the jaguar finds it's place to strike.
The jaguar preparing for a long battle.
When in reality, no battle is needed at all.
The jaguar kills its prey and feasts
Cole Phillips
Apr 2, 2014
Apr 2, 2014 at 9:14 AM UTC
Just as you Sing to the Pop-Diva's Tune
The Robins will cower and chirp for more
I speak for some News I brought this Noon
Though I believe you have heard this before:
The Pilgrim comes out of the Pool. And begs
Your Seasoned Pucker as you make-decide
His trunks are no-offense. In Truth his legs,
Thick as moss beg your humble dear Confide
I guess you were advised after your Shift
He requested for your charmed Experiment
Second Ghosts appeared; They in turn bereft
And granted his Fantasy's sentiment.
I should go now. Since more time to pursue
Before he stabs me with a Knife-in-Due.
Mar 9, 2013
Mar 9, 2013 at 7:14 AM UTC
Lucid, abusive
Tongue in cheek divine
Stupid, elusive
Lost soul of mine
A snap of orchestral fingers to summon the suave illustrator
Mohawk punks and minions to smash the limp masturbator
Loveless, acquiesce
Arpeggio flutter ripples
Convalesce, Fancy dress
******* with perky *******
One or two drinks, make it three then five
Keeping the blood warm and love alive
Visceral, peripheral
Dark raven hair
Liberal, scriptural
I couldn’t even care.
I adored her all, her everything, her gleaming demeanor
The subtle wink of her eyes, the glow; even greener
Exotica, ex machina
Street amazon of desert glass sand
No drama, rural karma
Flesh sweating like the heat of Sudan
Dead singers like Cole and Morrison sing of paper moons and Crystal Ships
The mixed CD segues to U2, Pulp, and then a full disk of The Flaming Lips.
"Nightingale", minor scale
The saxophonist played under the street lamp outside
Folktale female
“Another drink?” she abides, two glasses and wine supplied
On her balcony we watched and listened, to the call of urban passion
The wordless music we adored, a testament to our mutual attraction.
Apr 16, 2013
Apr 16, 2013 at 5:07 AM UTC
Ever had that feeling that no one cares even the people who constantly say things like am here for you but is never around the ones who say just call me and when you do they don't answer , people who make promises and never commit but isn't a promise a comfort to a fool , then call me stupid cause I fell for it several times am way pass the stage of a fool .
I got trust issues!! and its way pass crazy when you find that you don't even trust your mother when you can't look at her and crack a smile for a few seconds because in the blink of an eye she takes it away.
I had a nightmare last night and I wake up trying to ketch my breathe but the truth is it was my reality standing in front of everyone and no one can see me dying .
My alarm went off and this time I didn't even know what for, screaming and beating ,cursing and scowling my mother went off from 6 -8 in the morning, lord know this my favorite way to wake up giving me enough energy to go through my day all gloomy and **** but he always seem to cheer me up with the sound of his voice cause its a Cole world and all I gotta do is CHEER UP .
cause even through the joy i feel the pain even when it sun i feel the rain even when am high i feel the low likes that's all I know and lord knows i can't complain cause even when i do it feels the same getting high just to fight the lows cause that all i know .....
So cheer up
#NanaJustice
Dec 31, 2014
Dec 31, 2014 at 11:08 AM UTC
Thine eyes shall see the light of distant skies:
Yet, COLE! thy heart shall bear to Europe's strand
A living image of thy native land,
Such as on thine own glorious canvas lies;
Lone lakes--savannas where the bison roves--
Rocks rich with summer garlands--solemn streams--
Skies, where the desert eagle wheels and screams--
Spring bloom and autumn blaze of boundless groves.
Fair scenes shall greet thee where thou goest--fair,
But different--everywhere the trace of men,
Paths, homes, graves, ruins, from the lowest glen
To where life shrinks from the fierce Alpine air,
Gaze on them, till the tears shall dim thy sight,
But keep that earlier, wilder image bright.
5k
To you I may just be a grain of sand, caught between your toes
But you will not have my experience, so you cannot know
How it feels to float on a shark fin or rest on a mermaid's breast
Or do a jig with a conga eel, now that really was the best
So before you cast me aside to clean your human foot
Take a super duper microscope and take a closer look
At me and my sparkly sandy compatriots as we glisten in the light
A dazzling array of shell fragments and glass nuggets so bright!
Sep 19, 2014
Sep 19, 2014 at 6:10 PM UTC
To Two Nonnas
@2007 Linda Barrett
We can't afford to go to Italy
So you both bring it to us
We hear in the music of your names,
each syllable coming from your mouths,
vocal chords and tongues
that dance fast Italian tarantellas
from your shared cubicle
You both should have been sisters
Born on the same month
And sailed into America
on the same ship.
You bring us Italy
through your cooking:
olive oil drenched cole slaw
made zesty with ground pepper and salt,
amaretto cookies placed on our desks
deep fried calamari rings
at the Willow Grove Bennigan's
and Italian restaurants
in a Maple Glen shopping center.
You both embrace us
with still strong Nonna arms
and crochet bright pink baby clothes
for expecting employees.
On the weekends,
you become bocce ball champs
in Montgomery County
where Italian is still spoken,
To uphold up the old country's heritage
This poem comes out
from our love to you
because just by being our friends
we want to save all our pennies
to see what Italy is really like.
Feb 4, 2012
Feb 4, 2012 at 7:38 PM UTC
hold your head up high
like a fightin' rooster
**** your walk like you used to
talk and squawk
screech and yell
scratch holes in the earth
fight like hell
rip through the rain
ride on the wind
run fast and firm and free again
cry out loud at the break of dawn
you can make the sun your own
send it on up and roll it around
make it smile
make the sun smile
and light your eyes
and paint your feathers
get your head up high
like a fightin' rooster
let us stand together
never mind the weather
blood is forever
©Jason Cole
Mar 23, 2015
Mar 23, 2015 at 8:15 PM UTC
Dear Cole,
I can't say I've ever been in love with anyone who I've ever met, nor can I say that I've ever met anyone named Cole... I think.
So that's why I'm writing you...because maybe we'll fall in love.
You're out there somewhere, Cole, and that's probably not even your real name, but you could be anywhere. Thousands of miles away, or even down the street.
Either way, I'll keep looking for you, and I guess I can only hope that you're looking for me, too.
Jul 11, 2013
Jul 11, 2013 at 1:56 AM UTC
It hath yet to clear away
from the skies of the bereaved
hearts: of family and friends,
neighbours and colleagues, church
members and associates--the
sudden pall of smoke of sorrow
that arose a week agone, precisely
on the Lord's Day last--from the
debris of deaths of the Dana plane
accident in Lagos, Nigeria.
When that evil bruit first
on the radio i heard, like lead
sank fast to the very base of
the sea of woe, my heart; and
wailing was i within like a child
that's bereft of breast milk. I
could not my tongue find again, for
words were as sand heavy in my
mouth. All earthly pleasures did de-
part my thoughts at once, losing
all known appetites for ecstasy
For the 153 souls that perished
in the ill-fated plane crash, when
upon a two-story building with its
belly fell; killing 6 more people
besides the number aboard the aircraft
who, like everyone else on that Sunday, were
having a nice day in their various homes.
of whose tale amongst the unfortunate
victims should i tell thee: Is it
of the bright, warm and lovely lady
that came from the US to celebrate
her brother's wedding with her children
and died along with her family whole--
husband, two kids, and a set of
twins, mother, and two cousins? Or is
it of those who had gone to visit their
friends but met their death untimely
in that damaged building? Or is it
of the air hostess that was to get
married next July? Or is it of the very
reverend Cole and his darling wife?
Or is it of the brass hats, professor,
corps member and top civil servants? I can
not exhaust the tragedy's list! It's too
great a tale to be told by me--the
sad loss of precious lives like mine!
And for 3 days in grief hung the country's
flag in a half-flown position, lowering
its high head in ashes of sympathy
as the nation at large did mourn
the dead and condoled with their families.
Jun 10, 2012
Jun 10, 2012 at 1:16 PM UTC
It's year 2050
Every human was born with a symbol etched onto their skin.
you may be asking what do the symbols represent?
Each symbol is an indicator of your inevitable death.
I am Cole Adams and I've been an outcast my entire life
and its sad since I am merely 17 years old.
My symbol has a gun and its very uncommon especially since
I've never seen a red gun symbol before, which is confusing.
We grow up accepting our death and understanding it can be horrible, or for instance
if your symbol is a bed, you die in our sleep.
The people in my school who have the bed symbol are 'popular'
meanwhile loners like me who have the not so popular gun symbol OR symbol containing
a lightning bult. Its the rare ones like us who are subjected to being laughed at, which I don't understand.
Anyway I am just writing my story to explain my life.
I was 15 years old and I had fallen madly in love with a nymphet gorgeous girl, the stained pink dye in her hair with her chipped black nails struck me, I never thought to fall for a girl quite as unique as her.
I'm simple, brown hair brown eyes 5'7 and I never thought she would fall for me, but yet, she did.
We had a beautiful teenage love. We lost our virginity to each other, and in our world its not common to lose it early, just because our deaths could happen anytime.
Her symbol was the cancer zodiac sign, and it did mean the illness. It was uncommon for a girl with such a popular symbol to fall for a boy like me, but she loved me anyway. Her dark empty eyes glowed when she would look at me, she made me forget about my symbol, my thoughts would be gone around her. I loved her.
10 months in and she began to be distant, she didn't kiss my cheek and ruffle my hair. She didn't shoot off love signals as she once did. Her touch felt unknown. She fell for another person, she loved him like i've never seen before.
I never would of thought my symbol meant suicide, but it did.
With my last breath I still loved her, I loved her forever.
This is my suicide note/ story of my life.
I died on April 10th, 2051.
Dec 2, 2013
Dec 2, 2013 at 3:19 PM UTC
Can a Love song be used twice?
I love you’s and the reminiscent blues,
do the rhythm and blues remember the
ones you loose ?
This reminded me of you.
I use the lyrical hues
of this fine tune to put into words my feelings for you.
Expiry date.
Can a hummingbird still sing
when your number no longer rings?
I wonder
Nat King Cole’s somber stardust melody still
haunts my reverie.
Can I really vow to another with the words I solemnly devoted to my past lover?
As seasons change
so to does my musical range.
Yet a love song , is still a Love song.
To my future love,
at times my hearts desire cannot create words which quantify that;
of a lyrical tune and a lyre.
A Love song.
Love in the present.
Beyond the fond memories of things the lovers dreamt,
Love remains in all things spent
within life’s timely symphonies.
Oct 14, 2022
Oct 14, 2022 at 7:34 AM UTC
He raised me the old-fashioned way
Never spared the rod
Worked daylight to dark
Except for Sundays
Never heard him say
His life was hard
Taught me to drive a stick
To hunt, to fish, to throw a lick
And how to take one
Good times fly by
Years fade away
Yesterday dies
Time cries
Daddy was a good ol' boy
I'm talkin' about them good ol' boys
They're the heart of the South
Them good ol' boys
Well they're about as good as it gets
He gave up all the boyhood dreams
And plans he'd laid
So that I'd have some
Sometimes he'd speak and gaze
A glimpse of better days
Back on the farm
I can just see him now singin'
"Not Fade Away" and "True Love Ways"
There in the sun
Good times fly by
Years fade away
Yesterday dies
Time cries
Daddy was a good ol' boy
I'm talkin' about them good ol' boys
They're the heart of the South
Them good ol' boys
Well they're about as good as it gets
I carry his picture in my wallet
Together with his boyhood dreams
The picture is of him at 12 years old
My wallet's bustin' out at the seams
Time cries out for them good ol' boys
I'm talkin' about them good ol' boys
They're the heart of the South
Them good ol' boys
My Daddy was as good as it gets
Time cries out
For the heart of the South
Time cries out
For the heart of the South
Time cries out...
Time cries out...
Time cries out...
© Jason Cole
Jun 13, 2015
Jun 13, 2015 at 8:06 AM UTC
The feeling of your absence doesn't bother me,
I guess because I never lost you.
I want to move on,
but fragments of ecstasy pierce my heart,
reminding me that you're no longer mine.
When you cross my mind,
my heart skips a beat,
I just wish it also skipped the feeling, that you're weren't enough for me,
Maybe I'd still have you in my arms.
°d_cole
Mar 26, 2022
Mar 26, 2022 at 12:06 PM 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
tempting trappings glow
ghostly garments flow
hair winds bright like sunshine ropes
in my velvet dreams
sequel skin as I grin
stops only if I wait
gentle limbs with no end
churn a heart of clay
within, without
beneath, about
outside in, inside doubt
behind the breach
roundabout route
beyond my reach, right way out
seasoned strangers
inner part dark
destined dangers
apart from spark
flurried passions molt
storied bastions bolt
fire blinds light like fog eats smoke
in my velvet dreams
© Jason Cole
Jun 20, 2015
Jun 20, 2015 at 5:52 PM UTC