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?

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selfish selfish little man

He follows
He creeps
He reaps
What is mine
He takes every inch
Every chance he gets
And makes his opinion
Get all over me
He abuses the right
Of something free
he over steps lines
And stomps ALL over me
He has no regard
No care
No respect
No grace
He needs a good punch
in the face
To shut him up
to shut him out
to dismiss
Anything he has to say
When it comes to what
I feel
or think
or write
he has no insight
AT ALL

NO UNDERSTADING
NO AWARENESS
WHAT-SO-EVER
NOT AT ALL

He’S always got some stupid comment
something stupid to say in return
some dumb remark
He loves to double park
in my creative space
he oversteps and intrudes all over the place
He’s a troll
on a roll
on blast
too fast
everything he says
goes quickly past
my ears
my heart
without any boundaries
he stomps all over
and cramps within
He invades what is mine
so he can begin

selfish selfish
little man
you
do nothing
but do
for only you

 

-kc 2015

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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

Not your ex

Treat me like I am
But I’m not.
Treat me like I am
I don’t care.
And I won’t
So
I.dont
And you
Can
Do whatever you like
Say whatever you will.
Fill whatever you fill
Love somebody else
And I will do the same.
You don’t want to play this game
But you do
With
Everyone else
And I
Don’t care
As long as you are happy
I’m happy you are happy

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.

Bad kisser

My only regret
is that I did not forget
You sooner
Than this
And…
the only thing I truly miss
Was my idea of you
But not really you at all

 

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images

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.

dalmur0091

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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A Letter to Ego

check out this post from spiritscience.net

 

A Letter to Ego.

a letter to ego

//

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


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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

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