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 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!"
She returns to her grandmother’s house with the baby, and since there are no kids allowed where her grandma lives, she has to be extra careful that the baby doesn’t cry. The reason that she went to her grandmother’s house is because that’s where she lives. Her mother left her a long time ago. Anyway, she spends the whole night taking care of the baby by feeding it with the formula provided in the bag, and changing its diapers. She soon gets really sick of it.
In the essay entitled “The Sacred Conspiracy” by Georges Bataille, there is a text that says, “A world that cannot be loved to the point of death—in the same way that a man loves a woman—represents only self-interest and the obligation to work. If it is compared to worlds gone by, it is hideous, and appears as the most failed of all. …Men today profit in order to become the most degraded being that have ever existed,” (Bataille 179). Interestingly enough, the comment can be applied to the problematic relationship of the human and the animal as seen in Byron Haskin’s film The Naked Jungle.
I close the door and lie on my bed. “I wish . . . that little brat didn’t exist,” I whisper to myself and fall asleep.
has to say to her father and he adds “in fact, I’ve thought that it
returns to her bed and caresses her) Let me be taken, let me be put to
“Because he’s a dick.” He says with a tone that he hardly ever uses. You turn to Lydia who deep down wanted to run home into her warm bed
“Tomorrow Mom says we can leave a couple days before her. She says she has a surprise for
"Now, now that is no story for bedtimes. You will be awake all night with bad dreams."
“Agh but mom.” Alex grumbled, turned over in bed and slammed the pillow over his head.
There are a variety of toys scattered around the rug and the room where the infants can reach them. The child is on the rug in the middle of the room, playing with a plastic giraffe. She picks it up with both hands and shakes it in the air and then puts it down. She then crawls towards another child who is drinking his bottle in a bouncer. She reaches that child and puts on of her hands on the bouncer to hold herself up. With her other hand she reaches for the other child’s bottle pulling out of his hands. The teacher takes the bottle from her hand and gives it back to the child in the bouncer. The little girl sits down and begins to cry. The teacher consoles her telling her she will get her own bottle soon and gives her a blanket. The
All of these objects are from people I love. They are the people who will help me if I’m in trouble, the people I have never had the chance to meet, or people I will never see again. Whenever I look at those items, it brings me back to the times I’ve had with them or stories I’ve heard about them. Whether the memory is hearing my mom talk about her mother’s dinner parties filled with fancy talk and tea or reminiscing about the time I had to eat green jello, I love them
Herman Melville’s short story “Bartleby the Scrivener” is about a lawyer who hires a copyist, named Bartleby, who politely refuses to work. While most people would not tolerate an employee who continually prefers to not do any work, this lawyer finds it hard to let his scrivener go. Bartleby shows great achievement at copying documents and works hard all day and night. The lawyer soon discovers that Bartleby has begun to stay in the office and never leaves. After only a few days of working in the office, he expresses his preference to not work. When asked to do simple tasks he responds with, “I prefer not to.” He uses this phrase repeatedly throughout the story. The narrator is the lawyer in the story. His attitude towards Bartleby is constantly changing. The narrator expresses his attitude through many different literary elements such as; point of view-first person, diction, and tone.
My art is essentially one big collage. Each individual item says something about me or my personality type. I
excitement into this collection by perhaps putting more thought into them. Also a bit more