#lrcole
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there is a difference in being loved by someone who wants to change you and being changed by someone who loves you
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mold is growing
in the eye of a tree
if I stop for long enough
it will blink at me
“come here child
inhale the scent
of gentle change”
the collapsed forms
of hollowed pumpkins
nestle into the roots
slouched comfortably
“let us be child
ponder the sweetness
of life and decay”
moss crawls meandering
across the branches
plush and soft in turn
inviting me to stay
“rest here awhile child
slow your thoughts
let them go free”
mold is growing
in the eye of a tree
if I stop for long enough
my home will call for me.
—l.r. cole “mold is growing”
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we are both beasts of burden
half our loads belong to someone else
but you’re worth leanin on’
hope you can trust me too
to keep these logs rollin
across both our backs
settlin’ in the dip between us
secure because we’re
side by side
oh we are both beasts of burden
and the cart that drags behind
has us both in the halter
blinders on because
ripples across interactions
and between relationships
hurt to try and track
so let’s just keep going
side by side
look, we are both beasts of burden
the tags on the cargo
have long snapped off
nothing is split even
half our loads belong to someone else
but you’re worth leanin’ on
hope you can trust me too
you hold left, I’ll hold right
side by side.
—L.R. Cole, “something about burdens”
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people always ask how I break
they never see the cracks
never see me beyond light of day
so how could someone like me
be the kind to fall apart?
it’s like erosion for others’ sake
tiny pieces falling off the racks
dislodged by what you say
it’s like loving the ocean and sea
so much that I let it break me apart.
—l.r. cole, “let it break me apart”
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you say I shit on your dreams
that you can’t tell me
cause I always point out the flaws
that like your father before me
I have proven a cold ear.
so tell me who taught me
to be cautious, careful, and distrustful?
was it the talks of stranger danger?
the adamant truth that
college is the only way up?
the reasons we could not afford
simple pleasures or comforts?
the reality that dreams
cannot feed me
cannot clothe me
cannot shelter me
cannot—
do not lie to me
your dreams are a sham
the same way you
made mine out to be.
—l.r. cole
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you tell me you love my hive
of hope and kindness
buzzing soft and quiet;
I tell you I love your garden
of nightshade and oleander
swaying gentle and innocent;
“Honey?” You offer.
And I, knowing, reply,
“Give it first to the hive.”
—l.r. cole, “you tell me you love my hive”
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I love you.
More or less?
Two trifle words
misused to describe
my passion.
I love you.
Beyond the measures
this world would
foolishly apply.
I love you.
—l.r.cole, “I love you.”
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I did not know how large the beast was
for when I was young its appetite was little
there was no need to draw the bars shut
it fed as I did, rumbling with pleasure
word by word, sentence by sentence
tale by wondrous tale until none were left
and then the hunger gnawed at me
just as it scraped at the belly of the beast
my spirit and mind begged for more
that is when I found the pen in my hand
when the hunger entrenched itself within me
and drove me to make the meals myself
the stories of others no longer satiated
and the beast, once so small and gentle
sunk its claws into me with knowing eyes
…
we will not be satisfied.
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you love me, but you don’t. you love me, you do. you love me, but it doesn’t look like love. it doesn’t feel like love. not to me. you love me. you say so. but you don’t.
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it’s the little things that stack up
a little bit here
a bit more there
enough drops will fill a cup
just one more tear
falling in the air
it’ll overflow; drip down the sides
she is a good mother
he is a good father
giving hugs and piggyback rides
until she smothers
and he walks farther
away; deepening the disconnect—
I should leave.
. . .
I am not the child
that they will grieve.
—l.r. cole, “I can’t”
#poetry#lrcole#the last drop to overflow#the last straw#if you will#mothers and fathers#and the horrible dichotomy#of loving them and hating them so much it burns
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how do you explain
that the only reason
you remember to breathe
is because sometimes
the weight on your chest
presses hard enough
on your lungs to
make you reflexively inhale
how do you explain
that the only reason
your heart beats right
is because there has
to be an angel
wrapping their fingers
around it and squeezing
just enough to keep
you painstakingly alive
how do you explain
that the only reason
your blood circulates
is because gravity
pulls it down
and it simply gets
lost on its way
to the ground.
—l.r.cole, “how do you explain”
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you won’t find me
in the sunlit halls
of your heart.
it’s been a millennia
since the last time
I was there.
wander instead to the
gray and sallow corners
of your forgetfulness.
there in the shadows
my bones lie alone
tired of waiting.
—l.r. cole
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getting ice from the freezer
always ends with one falling
spiralling to the floor, shattering
the pieces sometimes close
sometimes not.
if I leave them, they will melt
soaking the paper from a gift bag
reusable in any other circumstance
warping the wood flooring
serviceable, otherwise
leaving a puddle for others
to get their socks wet.
but if I pick it up
and throw it in the sink
nothing like that will happen.
it will simply melt
into the drain
and trickle
away.
—l.r. cole, “inconveniences beget”
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little drummer boy
dragged up to the line
playing war songs
you know it’s past time;
little drummer boy
pushes himself back up
playing war songs
he knows it’s past time;
quit it boy
the old won’t let you
ruin false peace
playing war songs so loud;
quit it boy
before they strap a gun
to your hand
and leave you for dead;
little drummer boy
you knew it was comin’
ready set fire
you knew it was comin’;
little drummer boy
dragged up to the line
first, second blood
dripping on to your drum;
little drummer boy
you knew it was comin’
and you knew
you weren’t coming back home.
—l.r. cole, “little drummer boy/you knew”
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moon come closer
pull the tide
from the waters
pooling in my eyes;
when my heart
breaks with friction
stress overcoming;
moon come closer
pull the tide
drown my sorrows
in the tsunami cry.
—l.r. cole, “moon come closer”
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burn me up inside
little sun
sitting in my ribcage
you feel too much
this body
can only do so little
scorch my throat
little sun
warn me of the danger
that comes when
I speak
to anyone at all.
—l.r. cole, “burn me up inside”
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