In Geneva no one can hear you scream

Time is a tick of the mind

Where we once belonged

Has gone far away

Today

And now

Black smoke

Beautiful losers

A shout in the street

Start to fade

All that we made

Is born to die

A brief history of time

Obsession

Old lovers

Under freeway balconies

Nude naked and stripped

Secrets behind smiles

The horse would know, but the horse can’t talk

Rhapsodies in black

Documenting disposable people

Disposers

Exposers

Ghost images

Ghost people

ghost world

Once Held together by water

But now Broken apart by man

We can reach

I can’t

Stand

Being

Without.

You

make me

Feel

something

Whole

I wish

Could

Stop

Time

Space

And age

And this

Stage

I’m in

I don’t know where

To even begin

Again

Cause I want

Everything

I can’t have

Right now

Right here

But I fear

Too?

Much

And I fear

Nothing at all

I could watch

It all fall

And be fine in the end

But in the end

I’d be alone

Like really alone

And I don’t

Want that.

Give me a sign

Give me the call

Give me your all

Let me know

That I’m something

You know.

You want.

And not some thing

You don’t know

Haunted

The loneliness

You can’t escape

It’s there with our without you

It’s there in a crowded room

It’s there on a deserted street

I used to enjoy being alone

Cause I wasn’t lonely

Now I don’t enjoy much of anything

Everything reminds me of something that is no more

Dead flowers of yesterday

Fill my days

And haunt my nights

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

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

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 🙂

poisoned brain

don’t want to try
to do anything different
than what hasn’t worked
a whole life time
but it’s never you

or it always you
but that’s just what you’ve expect for yourself
even though you are more than that
sometimes

but sometimes isn’t enough i guess

when you don’t see it

and when you don’t care

how can anyone else?

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

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.

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

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a.d. w. a. y. ?

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