You were great
I’ll miss you
We will all miss you
Forever…
What happened between us
Was the best thing
For me
Right now
Tu n'es pas bon pour moi
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
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
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 🙂
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?
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.
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
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
