pop! goes the ego!

pop those pills
with popular fills
And all the cheap thrills
to fill yourself
Up on
Pop those pills
it’s your ego that kills

all for the cool
all for the sake of
the image
you fake
as you drop names
And you play games
Gotta go
gotta feed your ego
gotta feed your beast

coast your way up
as you boast your way through
To the top of nothing
the nothing that’s you

c’mon baby

i know
sometimes it’s me
but i like you
and you’re worth it

i gotta let it in
(let you in)
and let it go
(let fear go)
and give up
the fight or flight
shit i do
that is never right
and never good
and never works out for me
this time
i want it
to be different
and as good as it can be

goodnight

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Check yourself

Your tone
Ain’t so fucking sweet
So maybe you should hear it
The way others do
And change your tone first
Before expecting others to

by kyoko cole

The 7 sins in everyone under the sun

Too much of a good thing
Doesn’t make it good
Fill your lid
Fill your kid
Full
Of shit
A Bottomless pit
In most of everyone
Make it sick
from an over spill
the over kill
Will kill who 

Will kill you first
The rule
You fool
You must drink up
All the shit you think up
You think Is right
Is right for

You 

And you alone 

To get more

You whore
Too much bad
Too much good
Too much sun
Too much fun
Too much of anything

Can make anyone come undone 
Too above
Too below
Too much of Anyone

You think you know 
Will only make you less than better
Less than good
Less than none
And further from yourself

You can  become

Go to a bar
Drink like a fish
Make a wish
Try to kill your thirst
Your hunger
Your hole

Your head

 dead

Before it kills you first
Smoke as much or as little as you want
then get yourself home
Fall sleep  stay awake
Not to stop
The Move and shake
Get the fuck away from

 and around
The ones who move and fake and only take take take 
The full round
But act the part and act the sound
too much nothing  is the only thing found 

You show one side 

And hide from the other
anywhere in between
Is less than whole 
You got too much shit

But you got no soul 

Under the sun
Under the gun
It’s never enough
To stop your run

Of something that is no longer even fun 

There’s  too much sin 

in everyone

by kyoko cole

the fever

image

She’s not a girl who
misses much
Do-do-do-do-do, oh yeah

She’s well acquainted
With the touch of a velvet hand
Like a lizard on a window pane

Man in the crowd
With the multicoloured mirrors
On his hobnail boots

Lying with his eyes
While his hands are busy
Working overtime

The soap impression of his wife
Which he ate and donated
to the National Trust

I need a fix cause I’m going down
Down to the bits that I’ve left up town
I need a fix cause I’m going down

Mother Superior jumped the gun
Mother Superior jumped the gun
Mother Superior jumped the gun

Happiness is a warm gun
( bang bang shoot shoot )
Happiness is a warm gun, yes it is
(bang bang shoot shoot)

When I hold you in my arms (oh yes)
When I feel my finger on your trigger (oh yes)
I know nobody can do me no harm
Because
happiness is a warm gun, momma
Happiness is a warm gun
-Yes it is.
Happiness is a warm, yes it is…
Gun!
Well don’t ya know that happiness is a warm gun, momma? (yeah)

by kyoko cole

the last thing i’ll ever write about you

via burning of the midnight lamp- the owl of minerva: the last thing i’ll ever write about you.


 

in passing through the night
through the dark
it only takes a moment for you to pull me in—
this isn’t something i asked for
or maybe i did (long ago)
but i didn’t ask for you
and i didn’t want to feel this now
i’m thrown into this
somehow
and
i feel myself falling in
falling for
i feel myself wanting more
but tonight is the end
you know-this is where i stand
with my heart in my hand….
with my soul on my sleeve
it is now time for me to leave
– all i can do
all i can say
my words  – my feelings
myself
will too soon fade away
this is the last thing i will ever write about you.

-kyoko cole 2008


heartbreak044

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the ghost of my friends

This is not a prison.

This is a trap.

I am the bait.

___________________________________________________________

Having balls is a good thing
having raw passion is a good thing and a rare thing.
To have both passion AND balls is what makes someone great.
I miss the great ones

I miss the lovers
and the dreamers/creators
I miss the artists
I miss the tortured souls- the poets…the journeymen …
and I mean the real ones
the real risk takers
the real love makers
the ones that do what they were born to do
unafraid of being who they really are
the ones that live for what they love
and the ones that love to love.
it has nothing to do with image
and everything to do with heart and soul
and pure being
I miss the truth in them
I miss their passion
I miss having them around
I miss them knocking at my bedroom window at 3am
driven by desire
driven by love
and…That feeling –
that wonderful feeling of hope and wonder
and the excitement in life and love
I miss the fire

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-kyoko cole  2008

in between the moon and you

we retreat now
you and i
are –
hidden.
for 
awhile

people in
shadows
we lay low
in the dark

can’t talk
to you
can’t talk to me
as it goes 
back
now 

like we are
like we were
like we sometimes
always seem to do

when time trips
and slips
and fades to
and through
in front of
and
sometimes always behind
me and you

we are like the moon
in retrograde.

-kyoko cole 2013

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LPOD-Apr19-09

Black Velvet Sugar

BLACK VELVET SUGAR

The soft moss swimming;
It is the dying spirit.
Desiring, I hide.
Pink shore, serene breeze.
The flat, upright sparkle shines.
Lost moon, velvet spirit.
Walk, swim. Drown
With blunt leaves
Wither, decline. With sharp flames
Write, fade: fluttering.
Purple, tender, falling,
Your eyes sits in wait
A mermaid arises,
Declining, shining.
shines on
Forever
And Forever Shines on

-Kyoko Cole

IMG_0705.JPG

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Head through a wall


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Rhapsodies in black
reality in the lowest rank
“Just love me” she said
Not
Ever

 

he was a man full of junk
dead love
wasted drunk

 

but the Static
Clinging on
Sticking to
Stuck
yuck
sucks
The living life
Right out of you
Everything happens at once
or happens for a reason
they say
who said what?
who is they? and how would they know me?
Discontents
The contents
Inside
Spilling
Outside
spills over
and 10 times 
Removed
The voice and void
the Twisted twister
Dissonant
And distant
mister
you
mister who?
you i never knew

Building
Walls
Built to last?
more like
Built to destroy

Wedged Between
The good, the bad and the ugly
Misunderstood
Misreadings
everything
I see / you mean
a
Identity crisis

Stamp of impulse
take 3 steps away then
Draw
 it’s gone
Before it hits the floor
Poet assassinated
Strange attractors hover
Hiding in the many
ever more

Cats in bags
Dread
Taming the gremlin
Blurred emotions
 seek out
Mail order monsters
 that arrive at your door

Mouth
it
out
it enters
With/without
an invitation
with / without a sound
the Devil on the stairs
is what you have found
no clear
Points of entry
only old joy
burns
but never
returns
Bad girls and and sick boys
Never odd or even
the dead

never grow old

under a Full moon
it lingers
the sight and sounds
Dead Elvis
Unplugged

the last days
of the ninth life

is it becoming real now?
what is
is now real gone.

 

The truth is

I’ve always known
That this
Was not for me

 

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The Sacred Nine

One- on- one mixed-media art lessons in Los Angeles

Voice over Work

‘Cause talking is better than working

From My Reading

I spend a lot of time pondering what it all means.

Michael Lachman Writes

A Writer's Musings (And Likely Some Shameless Self-Promotion As Well)

Eclectic Theist

An outlet for my random thoughts and interests

I wonder, if I draw a line...

where would it flow...

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Serving a little poetic nourishment Monday thru Friday and featuring a Short Play Saturday Matinee to read.

Life in Poetry, Prose and Pictures

Tales From The Life Of A Soul