Faces On Hands, Hands On Heart
news blackout, streets packed out,
politicians inside trade deals....
feed the poor, Communist whores,
dont know how despair feels!
Jefferson raise a cup, Crazy Horse rises up,
freedom's a blood filled rainbow...
homeless jobless, insulated snobness,
fighting for today and tomorrow.
faces on hands, hands on heart,
a small fire strong against the dark.
all God's children doing their part....
faces on hands, hands on heart!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Gravity And Desire
frozen...
the trees, grasses partly covered,
the smoke from the chimney,
the light in the window.
the streets with silence,
even the darkness suspended.
conversation, a stray cat,
the cup cracked in the sink.
the pouring, and the fire,
shadow held by shadow.
the heart buried in dawn,
the dawn held by the dark!
ghosts?
or just snowflakes,
no one names or remembers,
falling and gravity, gravity and desire...
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poem by Eric Cockrell
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Kiss Of The Dead
old train hurtles by,
carrying the ghosts of...
the vacant,
...the dispossessed,
......the evicted,
.........the forgotten,
.............the expendable.
rattling the tracks,
with the rhythm of yesterday,
on the way to tomorrow,
beyond
...the
.....far
.......ho rizon.
and the hawk that flies overhead,
can find no flesh, no blood....
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poem by Eric Cockrell
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Returning!
through thorn and thistle,
through storms at sea,
across miles of desert....
from day unto night...
through sun through rain,
through hail, through snow...
i am returning!
empty chains and shackles
left by the door....
the only burden be desire....
the only truth that remains
wrapped in flesh and sweat....
step by step, moment by moment,
redemption, and breath...
i am returning... wave upon wave..
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poem by Eric Cockrell
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Revolution, Or Revelation? For Rachel
revolution, or
revelation?
maybe it takes one
to have the other!
how much injustice
does it take
before we demand justice?
how is it ever fair
for a few to live in luxury
while children are going hungry?
class warfare? or just
the right of every human being
to have his/her needs met!
how long will we wait?
how long will we let this go on?
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poem by Eric Cockrell
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Storm
the old man stirs the fire,
finding eternity in the ashes...
an unknown breeze ruffles the curtains,
as fire enters through the window.
love is a storm, and the aftermath.
stillness, and life in disarray.
so seldom we touch the lightning,
and seldom we kiss the thunder.
and only if we're very lucky,
can we reach and touch a falling star...
feel the intimate warmth of its passing,
knowing that nothing will ever be the same!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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You Are.... (Part Two)
you are....
the grey damp lines,
beneath the eyes of my heart.
words intimately spoken,
falling on an empty room.
the broken wheel,
left spinning in the dust.
the letter carried by crows,
to the snowbound north.
you are...
the faucet dripping,
the candle hidden in a drawer.
the sound of the spoon,
falling to the floor.
that pair of old shoes,
and a copper kettle.
the smell of perfume,
become the stink of time.
you are....
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Beggers, Scoundrels, And Saints # 2
barrel fires, pure desire,
holy men with
dirty hands.
feel the blood, wade through mud,
you know a man
is just a man.
not what you gained, how hard you strained,
but what you gave
without looking back.
the simple things, the human dreams,
two people walking,
one set of tracks.
children of the stars, destiny calls.
climb over hurdles, walk through walls.
what can be held holds what cant....
beggers, scoundrels, and saints!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Burns, And Burns, And Burns....
the poet burns, and burns, and burns...
warm your feet, cook your meal,
read by this light...
tell the ones you love
that you love them...
here where shadows cannot destroy...
take the bread of this body,
and feed just one of the hungry...
take these eyes, let humanity see justice.
take these feet, and walk the path.
take these hands and build a home.
take this heart, and love your neighbor...
take these wings, fly free at last!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Cant Get No Justice
black man
in them poverty chains
cant get no justice
in them sterile white courts.
blue collar man
in them grimy working chains
cant get no justice
in them insulated courts.
freedom man
in them speak out chains
cant get no justice
in them walled off courts.
poor woman, ha!
in them second class chains
cant get no justice
in them man-god courts.
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poem by Eric Cockrell
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