artist kyoko cole – Page 5 – skin loves fever

What can I do?

Nothing
Even though the unhealthy partv if me wants to try
I see no reason to.

Someday never comes

Busted pieces

Faulty parts

Dead eyes

Cold hearts

There’s no use in trying

To save what’s sunk

There’s no use in holding

On to what’s junk

The city of stars

Is under a starless sky

The city of sunshine

Is where light comes to die

It’s a fraud

It’s a fake

It’s the kind of city that will make

And break

You into the worst

But first

It will take

You

And

It will blind you

With the illusion

And then fill you up with confusion

Until you

are no longer you anymore

Love means nothing Here

It’s just a word people throw around and use

and abuse.

There’s no use in trying

There is no use in trying

-Kyoko Cole 2017

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

thirteen ways to kill your lover
a hundred and one ways to die

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

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

cool story bro’ (ha)

talk it up big
like it’s something great
i don’t hate
just to hate
when something’s good
to appreciate

but it’s not
even
close
bro

you got a lot
that’s not
real
and a lot more
That you steal
but you keep it up
to keep the crowds appeal

Cool story bro
And man you’ve got stories to tell
As you only talk about yourself up
you sell yourself well
To the people who don’t know you
But for me to see
You do what you to
Is fucking hell
All the names you drop
And you never stop
As you climb your stupid self
To what you think is the top
Of the shit pile
Meanwhile
You Keep on playing it off
Keep on playing it cool
play it dumb
Play it down
Bro
Cause you are such a tool
And a fool
Bro
You are
Bro
Just that bro
In hollyweird
Hollywood
That everyone encounters
But no one wants to know

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

a.d. w. a. y. ?

August 4, 2011 at 4:24am

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 🙂

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

i used to write (i’m writing now)

finding the way through fears. finding myself and the freedom that comes from knowing thy self.

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.

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

-kyoko cole 2008

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