Temple Of The Self # 4

manipulate, masturbate,
you need another hand.
man wants another woman,
woman needs a better man.

never happy, not content,
you steal your neighbor's wife.
trade your morals for desire,
at the cost of another's life.

and the sound of the heart
shakes the ground.
hunger burns, the sea churns,
and babies drown.

you pray to God,
but your prayers fall amid the furor.
in the temple of the self
bowing down to the mirror!

poem by Eric Cockrell
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What Color Is....

what color is broke?
broke down, busted,
aint got a dime...
broke!
what color is hungry?
does it have a language
known only to empty bowls?
what color is homeless?
does it keep the body
warm in the night?
does anybody give a damn?
what color is jobless?
does it redeem the thief
that breaks out the window,
moving with silent desperation?
and what color is alone?
can anybody hear?
does anybody really give a damn?

poem by Eric Cockrell
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Evolving, Constantly Changing (For Jan)

i look deep
into the depths
of my soul...
behind the doors
long closed,
darkness layered
in darkness...
before there were words!

i see stones, wind,
and great bent trees.
and their voices sound
like mine!

evolving,
constantly changing,
molded by light
and desire.
what have i become?
what will i become?

[...] Read more

poem by Eric Cockrell
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For I Am Human....

i am not democrat or republican,
i am not christian or muslim.
i am not gay or straight.
i am not black or white.
i am not old or young.
i am not male or female.
i am not a believer or a doubter.
i am not happy or sad.
i am not rich or poor.
i am not dead or alive.
i am not good or evil.
i am not sick, or healed...
i am not ignorant or wise.
i am not... i am!
i am all these things,
for i am human,
both divine and common!

poem by Eric Cockrell
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Only The Darkness (Can See)

kick down the door,
rattle the panes and the shutters.
break the glass urn,
blow the dust from the wings.
touch the untouchable.
feel the forbidden.
what you taste in your sleep,
is only you!
strike a match to the walls,
sweep your belongings to the fire.
what is burned cant own you,
the unbridled horse runs free!
bite the neck of the lover,
give way to the howl.
the moonlight writes verses
only the darkness can see!

poem by Eric Cockrell
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Pledge Of Freedom

if the cost of freedom
be my hand or my foot...
cut them off, take them,
let it be so.
if to see equality,
you must take my eyes,
pluck them out,
they are yours!
if the price of compassion
be the scars on my back,
then so be it.
if my body be the bridge
you must cross to find the truth,
then i lay it down!
if my heart in your hands
be the cost of responsibility,
then i give it!
for i cannot go there...
without you!

poem by Eric Cockrell
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Stone Riddles (continued)

tears,
words nailed,
forbidden walls.

prayer,
the hand
that dares.

forgiveness,
the act,
being God!

nuclear,
mankinds defiance
of infinity!

evolution,
spring, summer,
autumn, winter...

[...] Read more

poem by Eric Cockrell
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The Force That Heals

following ther footprints
of Shantideva,
i found the cross of Jesus,
the uncarved block of Tao.
heard the dedicated prayers
from the mosques,
and the temples alike.
and felt the Great Spirit,
coming and going...
and i knew it all to be but this...
that every step be to relieve
the suffering of the many,
that every hand to share the cup,
that ears given to listen,
and hearts to understand,
become the force that heals!

poem by Eric Cockrell
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A Room... (You Dare Not Enter)

there is no hope among vagabonds,
infidels' prayers return 'address unknown'.
Jesus rode a donkey to India,
to burn incense by Buddha's grave.
while Magdalene wept,
in her childbearing bed,
for the sound of small feet unheard...
so then must love betray,
the bed defiled by neglect?
as the tears of hunger fall
on pillows creased by ghosts!
the throb no more,
than the heart inside walls,
of the room you dare not enter!

poem by Eric Cockrell
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Immigrant

i'm just an immigrant here,
with no ties, no homeland,
no direction,
and no tomorrow!

i'm walking an uncharted path
through thorn and thistle;
my lips are parched,
my soul is hungry

my hands are tied,
my back is burdened,
i cant pitch my tent
on this rocky ground

the caw of the crow,
the screech of the hawk,
the growl of the bear

and the reflection

[...] Read more

poem by Eric Cockrell
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