Posted in art

Selling everything I own

Tomorrow I have an art show

Showing/selling new pieces and selling all my old pieces too. Everything for sale!!! Everything must go!!!

Check out my instagram @kyokocoleart

And email me kyoko.cole@gmail.com

if you’re interested in any of the pieces listed

Prices are negotiable. I also have prints of most for sale. Email me.

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Posted in creative writing, poetry, song lyrics, thoughts

Amateurs (don’t take things or this so seriously)

Thirteen ways

To kill your lover 

A hundred and one ways to die 

It pays 

To be 

Cemented in your ways

Or does is pay to be 

Wild in the streets

Like a wild card 

Jump up jump around 
New York girls

Are too hip

As they hop

To the top 

of the Empire state building 

Which I don’t care to ever climb 

A Hot house
As Cold 

As your unbearable heart

Finish what you start, you say

As everything slowly starts to shift 

Deterioration, they said

Right before it was dead 

It was everything that ever was

That is not a thing any more 

That couple over there 

Kindly lent their owner

To the dogs 

Frequencies are 
Less frequently

Felt in the air 

The less we care

The more we 

Dread

The dead

That’s a coming

Round the bend 

So buckle up partner 

It’s coming to the end 

The perfect partner

Of An imperfect pair 

Doesn’t dare 

Taunt

The electronic wizard 

Or 

The human lizard

But will haunt 

The Spirit hunter

And the Catholic priest 

Who will soon sit down  

For the mighty feast 

And break some bread 

And both get fed  

The last supper 

Is a coming soon 

Blasted allegories
Blast past noon 

You are Not there

In the making

the making that never was 

Was never there within you

  Take me to the river 

Drown me in the water

Let it cover me up 

And Let my body sink low 

The more you say

The less you know 

Misleading 

Misreadings

Draw on you now

Like the raise of an arm 

And the hand that signals the alarm 

To wake up 

Wake up 

WAKE THE FUCK UP

Before it’s too late  

wait it already is …

-kyoko cole 2017

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Posted in creative writing

a.d.w.a.y – (something i wrote exactly 4 years ago tonight)

a.d. w. a. y. ?

you would write a thing or two and

toss it a million ways around

the net-

-work

it’s way aross the many screens

i didn’t think twice

when it would

sometimes hit me

sometimes miss me.

but now i find myself missing you

you were lonely then

like me now

searching for something

that only exists with some people

and even some people have exhausted it

but you were sensitive like me

i could feel that between the static

i could feel that between the lies

the lies of life

we see

and run into

and

all i can think about right now

is the empty

and the space

the negative

the silent

on the memory of something

notifiations never-

tag my name now

no notes

no news

not

nothing

new

comes now

from you

you’re nowhere to be seen

please

come

back

my friend

you don’t know how much you mean

to me 🙂

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Posted in creative writing, poetry, thoughts

It’s not my time or maybe it’s exactly that

I might have let it get to me
What I feel
What I see
What is what
What is not
I don’t know
What is real
i don’t know
much of what is
other than
what i feel
And what’s really to be
What you
do
and
do not
show
And what all is
left over
Rinsed out
the residue
Really has got a hold of me
For the time being
for now
but
Not forever
The hazy
Dazy
Lazy
crazy
Glue
of me
But nothing
ever sticks to you
All that is
or isn’t
ever true
with you
You can quickly cut
You can easily undo
as i struggle to make my way through

it all..
From a reaction
without any
satisfaction

What it is
what isn’t
and what it never was
and what it will never be
as anger grows
and confusion shows
only breeds
more negativity
and nothing more
out of  nothing less
with less and less humility
Tear down everything
Instead of build  up
now lost
as
we lose
No trying
to understand
No one
to hold my hand
lack of care
Lack of love
i ask for a miracle
or something more
from up above

i don’t know the name
it all starts to become the same

as everything before
until there is no more

we all lose ourselves out there somewhere
but where are you …???
and where am i???

20 years have gone by too soon
come back down
to this place
underneath the timeless moon

Posted in song lyrics

stupid magic (or maybe it’s just the whiskey)

I get on quite easy
living life as a spy,
I’m a stupid kinda person.
what kind of a stupid person am i?
I like train spotting and breeding guppies.
i want to be like all the yuppies
in this town who pass me by
and never say hi

but when i’m left alone
I like to contemplate night.
When the feeling is never right
I start to daydream
about nothing and
everything
that only matters much to a stupid person like me

My mind turns straight to whiskey.
i might just love it more than night?
i just might drink myself to get myself right
i just might drink myself more stupid and start a fight
i love falling over and getting dirty hands
i love to use words like magic and psycho
and say things like “no one understands”
but when i stop my talking
that’s a when i start my walking
down to get my fix
and fill myself easy
with a mix of cheap thrill
i’m a stupid kind of person out for the kill

-kyoko cole
2015
image

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Posted in creative writing

i used to write (i’m writing now)

i used to write
my heart out
without any doubt
without any fright
but somewhere along the heartache and years
there seems to be a build up of unsound fears
that accumulate
in a frantic state
inside an emotional ride
takes me to the other side
automatic
erratic
sick and unfit
the only way out
is to move through it

be silent and still
and in the right state of mind
i find
myself
and know myself
better than to let
any thing or anyone
get
me down –
the truth is those things don’t matter to me
i matter to me
knowing myself is what sets me free
-k.c.

dalmur0091

Posted in creative writing

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