Collected Works,
Vol. 1
The Collected
Works of Nicholas Cottrell
Disclaimer and
Copyright Notice:
All works within
are copyrighted to Nicholas Cottrell, hereafter known as "the
author".
Unauthorized
copying is prohibited. Each reader is
authorized to make five (5) copies and
distribute them
in any manner as long as profit is not gained.
This contains
subject matter that you may find disturbing or inappropriate. Please do not read
it if you think
you may become offended.
Table of Contents:
0. Introduction
1.
"Spring" - The one romance poem in here.
2. "Spiral's
End" - a poem of revenge
3. "Of
Teenage Sorrow" - A short story
4.
"Nomad" - loneliness in writing
5. "Frat
Boys" - anti-drinking
6.
"Reflected Waves" - a poem of surprise at oneself
7.
"Phoenix" - a poem of
redemption
8. "My
Friend In Misery: An Ode to Missa" - a poem of thanks
9.
"Bleeding" - a poem of being drained
10.
"Observations of Corporations" - A partial view of life.
11. "Fallen
Hero" - Read the disclaimer
12.
"Singularity" - the one way out
13. "Short
Views" - More views on life
Introduction
A while back, my
poetry won me a statewide award. Ever
since, I've been pressured to make a
compilation of
some of my crap and send it around to be published.
This collection
is just a bunch of stuff I threw together, not much thought to it. If you like
it, tell me
so! My e-mail address is
GAFreak@aol.com, write me. I'll write
back each and every
person by hand, I
promise.
Well, on with the
show, I suppose.
1. "Spring"
A rose with
gentle petals
in the garden
grows
amongst the weeds
Love, like the
rose
thrives in life's
turmoils
like the
carefully planted seed
- Nicholas Cottrell
2. "Spiral's
End"
Too long have I
spent
Explaining what
I've meant
Too long have you
heard
my ominous words
Whimpering, you
cry
on your knees,
you die.
-Nicholas Cottrell
3. "Of Teenage Sorrow"
A child's cries in the night awaken the mother,
who stumblingly finds her way to the crib.
Is it a bottle, or a diaper change?
The mother does not know.
Inadequacy fills the teenage mother, and blinds her to the child's
needs. "Rot in Hell, kid." she
mutters, crawling back into a bed where a father should be but wasn't. The child's unrelenting tears force her from
her nighttime reverie, abd drag her back to the nursery. "Shut up, kid!" she growls
drowsily. "Don't you know I have
school tomorrow?" But the baby does
not know, and her howls fill the night.
Lights come on in neighboring apartments, and shouts reach her ears.
"Shut that kid up!"
"Some of us are trying to SLEEP!"
As much as she does not know how to help her
tiny child, she remembers how to defend her.
A torrent of
curses and insults streams unladylike from her lips, and vanquishes the
neighbor's
screams. Breaking into tears at her inadequacy to help
her child, she drags herself to her small
refrigerator and
withdraws a beer. "I just need more
money... I just need more time..."
she
mutters, and
almost believes herself in her half-drunken state.
In the morning she awakes, seeing that the baby
cried itself to sleep. Kicking over the
beer cans from
the previous night, she looked at her alarm clock. Too late to go to school now.
Might as well
spend time with the brat to make up for last night.
Dragging out a stroller from beneath half-eaten
TV dinners and beer cans, she reflected on
the time when she
still loved her child. When Stephen was
with her... when she had money to
spend... when
life was good. She packed the child into
the stroller, and rolled out the door
and down the road
to a little park.
Stopping at the pond, she threw stones into the
water and watched the ripples rise. She
pondered how easy
life would be without her little brat.
How easy... and that pond was so deep..
and so dark....
her knuckles whitened around the stroller's handle. So easy...
-Nicholas Cottrell
4.
"Nomad"
Across the Earth
I stride,
wandering
These sands I'm
cursed to ride,
thirsting
Alone I nurture
pride,
crawling
And with myself I
die,
smiling.
-Nicholas Cottrell
5. "Frat
Boys"
Amongst the
company of others,
I find myself
alone.
These men who act
like brothers,
it chills me to
the bone.
In salute they
raise their beer cans,
(I alone stand
without one)
and dub each
other "Man"
thinking that
getting drunk is fun.
-Nicholas Cottrell
6.
"Reflected Waves"
A river flows
beneath my feet
reflection glows
and life seems
sweet
I smile at myself
and see
the person
smiling back
is... not....
me....
-Nicholas Cottrell
7.
"Phoenix"
I am impure
for me,
there is no cure
I crawl to light
to try
and fight
the dark within
consumed
by my sin
I see the light
it is so bright
wash over me
and make me be
I become one
my sins are gone
the darkness lost
this light has
taught
my life is new
enemies few
I come to terms
my flesh not burn
I look to the sky
and wonder not
why
Because I made
peace.
-Nicholas Cottrell
8. "My
Friend In Misery: An Ode to Missa"
In darkness I
shone
Held by Death's
bones
Fingers around my
throat
Thrown into the
acid moat
It ate away my
flesh
with darkness and
death I meshed
Inside refused to
die
because then no
one would ask why
On brink I stood
and stumbled
around me world
did crumble
With friends I
went
to you I spoke
My darkness spent
Courage awoke
Inside I live
and to you I give
this little rhyme
in immortal time.
-Nicholas Cottrell
9.
"Bleeding"
Can give no more
My flesh is spent
Feel like a whore
To home I went
and ask they did
for more of me
I'm just a kid!
They don't agree.
A man they made
of just a child
To them I've said
"Give me a
while"
But time is what
I do not own
that door is shut
freedom, gone.
-Nicholas Cottrell
10. "Observations
of Corporations"
Swords locked in
a battle of the titans, unknowing people standing beneath continue with their
lives. Those that buy and sell us continue the petty
squabbles that to us are financial wars.
CEOs send their
army of lawyers and accountants to do battle on the market, a more bitter field
of battle than
any foreign soil ever has been. And the
foot soldiers of the war go home every
day to a wife and
two kids who love him only for what he brings in, not for what he is.
-Nicholas Cottrell
11. "Fallen
Hero" ***This one is graphically psychotic***
Black trenchcoat
flapping in the wind
Dear Lord I know
that I have sinned
But I still do my
very best
to protect her,
and all the rest
from the deepest
darkest black
Oh dear God he's
coming back
this evil thing
that should not be
the
responsibility falls to me
from deepest
shadows he appears
fills everyone's
hearts with fear
Oh my God he has
a gun
I'm screaming at
them all to run
fast enough is
what I'm not
blood is all those
bullets bought
filled with rage,
I turn around
because now I
hear another sound
he raises the gun
to come at me
I guess that he
cannot see
Everything I care
about
Already gone,
their lives snuffed out
He is the very
worst
he'll kill me,
unless I get him first
leaping with a
single bound
over the bodies
on the ground
I've become a
complete wreck
My hands reach
out, and break his neck
I won't think
about what I've done
After all... I
just killed my son.
-Nicholas Cottrell
12. "Singularity"
Above a void I
ride, stumbling
and on the ledge
I stride, crumbling
inside the hole I
fall, screaming
I wish for a
quick way back, dreaming
There is no quick
way, this I know
The straight and
narrow way to go
is the only way
back to life
if only I can
survive the strife
Kicked in the
side, to ground I fall
Stabbed in the back, for help I call
None rush to aid,
none come to help
No one loves this
discarded whelp
I look up and see
a man
hung on a cross,
and to me,
he smiles.
I ascend.
-Nicholas Cottrell
13. "Short
Views"
Every day is a
trial by fire that each man must face to reach the true freedom, the dreams of
the next night
that bless a monotone world with a little color. Trapped inside himself, the
men of the world
look to nothing as guidance. A little
bud on a little plant gives freedom to
some, and death
to others. Is it worth it? Kids die every day wondering if it is. Freedom
comes with a
price. With a car, you can choose where
to go, but you cannot choose when to die.
Pain gives
freedom from reality by making reality so harsh it cannot be faced. Love gives
freedom from
reality by making reality so rosy that it no longer exists. Greediness lets you
see everything
through hundred-dollar-green tinted glasses and everything changes into a $.
Music and writing
gives freedom by putting your entrapment onto paper and passing it onto other
unsuspecting
people. And thus the world goes round,
the trapping of one man going to another.
-Nicholas Cottrell
If you liked
anything you read, write me at GAFreak@aol.com or my home address:
Nicholas Cottrell
5888 Fornof Rd.
Columbus, GA
31909
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