Bhakti Path (Memory Of God)
if you think the wind
comes from nowhere
with no reason...
you are a fool!
your scriptures
are the ashes
of a fire long dead!
the bodies of those
you have killed
by your choices...
a sacrifice to your god!
you cannot deny
the blood on your hands,
the soot on your faces...
cannot muffle the cry
of babies unwanted!
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poem by Eric Cockrell
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Poet's Epitaph
i see the lights of a far distant shore.
i hear the moan of thundered skies.
i smell the perfume of rain not fallen.
i taste the lips of earth, and of trees.
i see the fire in cold artic winters.
i hear the words the wind desires.
i smell the scent of passion held back.
i taste the blood of coming death.
i see the dawn of the blackened cave.
i hear the weeping of mountains still.
i smell the coffin, and shovelled dirt.
i taste the spirit set free in flight!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Reflections Of Fire # 2
waiting for the snow
the cleansing frozen stillness
where spirits inhabit fossils
and the earth spins
naked and complete
in each turn.
this old body's worn out!
the turtle leaves its shell,
grows wings, flies into darkness.
lying again at the Mother's breasts,
watching her touch the wind
and create forms!
snow, tiny flakes
falling, defying gravity,
clinging to the windowpane
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poem by Eric Cockrell
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Too Much
i guess i did everything too much...
i ate too much, i drank too much
i fought too much, and too much sex!
i worked too much, i dreamed too much,
played music too much...
walked in the rain too much.
listened to the wind too much,
fell on my face too much,
ran wild too much, too much madness...
left her alone too much,
demanded too much,
wanted too much, talked too much.
loved her too much......
well let me think....if it's
too much or too little?
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Affirm The Fragile!
i cannot fix
the broken branch,
so i use it to build the fire.
and in the quiet of evening,
i sit in mourning with the tree!
i cannot bring back
the wind after it's gone,
so i look for the traces left behind.
the curtain swept, the lamp put out...
and sing praises with silent awe!
i cannot make the human being
to be more human,
so i love both the weaknesses
and the strengths...
and in doing so affirm the fragile,
with the faith that moves mountains!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Armageddon Diaries (Number Two)
change involves getting your hands dirty.
it also involves opening your eyes, and
seeing what's going on around you...
opening your heart, and feeling what's
going on around you. we are surrounded
by need, and we are the only answer!
forget your own hunger, feed your neighbor!
forget your lonliness, you are a wave
in the sea of humanity. forget your ideas
of right and wrong, and do the dirty work
of compassion.
forget your fear of dying, and dare to live!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Embrace!
body bruised,
burning in the fire
that consumes and names!
living by hunger,
fed my memory...
and the scent of something
from that faraway shore!
stories written in ashes,
the crackle and the smoke...
winter, and stillness.
but the light still burns,
the room stark and empty!
hand extended,
naked, unashamed!
calling forth the lover
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poem by Eric Cockrell
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Glass Rose (Moan Of The Night)
a glass rose
shattered on the bare floor...
tiny pieces glinting
in the late evening light.
an old photograph,
half burned in the ashtray...
hand on fire,
slips down, fingers enter
where faces disappear.
a small crucifix,
the breeze slips through the window,
picking up the scent,
staggers as if drunk.
the cruelty of the door,
the latch, and the shadow...
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poem by Eric Cockrell
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You Are
you are...
the swollen tongue of destiny,
spilling from the mouth.
the lips of hunger,
swallowing the sword.
the rose petal fallen,
shaking the ground like thunder.
the beating sound of wings,
shaking the skies.
you are...
the block wall laid,
with skill and precision.
the smell of turnips,
boiling on the stove.
the cupboard door open,
a full bag of sugar.
clothes worn to revival,
drenched with redemption.
you are...
the bridge between, I and thou...
poem by Eric Cockrell
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All He Really Needs
old man sitting
alone in the afternoon
sunlight....
listening to the wind.
tired of the fight,
tired of the struggle,
tired of bailing water
in a sinking boat.
tired of having less
and working more....
tired of the want and need....
when all he really needs....
is a friend, a good book,
a cup of coffee....
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poem by Eric Cockrell
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