The Collected Works Of Nicholas Cottrell Essay, Research Paper

The Collected Works of Nicholas Cottrell

Collected Works, Vol. 1

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 [email protected], 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 [email protected] or my home address:

Nicholas Cottrell 5888 Fornof Rd. Columbus, GA 31909