Four Poems

By Hugh Cook

Photo by Sebastian Soerensen from Pexels

Thought Collage.

You can’t escape this. How do you accept this?
I am a mirror.
Can I reflip the trigger?
I assume peace.
Lightning rods ground Zeus,
I just wanna Hit
The street with my Chalk.
Yiddish Newspapers.
Romance Language,
Sostener me Fermer.

Black Tie / White Collar

I wanted to runaway,
From being lost
I looked around for a 
Carrier, or a hanger.
But my carrier
Took off without me,
Because it had a place to go
My familiar old black rope
Soon came over my head,
Slowly, thoughtlessly I slipped
It into a comfortable loop
‘Round my neck.
Then I used my head.
There was nothing
To run from. You’re Lost
If you can’t accept
Where you are.
Responsible for
Your Freedom.
So now I sit in the Sun,
Appreciating how it warms
My skin, how slow
I hope to approach peace.
Softly, don’t scare it off.

Heat of the Summer

June was engaging, 
promising, slightly mysterious.
July was Joy, warm water
Jumping at Red Rock. Love
Connection. Peace, constantly strained,
But muddled into a simple syrup,
Elixir of various spirits.
August was lost,
To drugs, and fear,
Pressure, and loss.
You will decide. Yet occasional
Euphoria bloomed, lulled
Into a sick peace.

I’m So Bored of Hating Myself.

Friendships shuffled like cards,
Then thrown away as soon
As a bent corner marks,
Trash experience for anonymity
Lie forever, still.
Glass for wine. No!
A mug- ahh so chic.
A Cigarette. Freedom
Then people, and no more
Cigarette, with wine of course,
Now stuck yourself again:
Cold metal and burning Spirit.

Hugh Cook attends University of Santa Barbara, California, studying Writing and Literature. His poetry has been published in The Catalyst literary arts magazine.