Shovels, And Whores!
shovels and whores!
cant get nothing done,
for digging people out
in way too deep,
and loaning money to whores
for their crack rock pillows,
their babies crying
with hunger cursed lips.
addicts and losers,
prisoners put out,
to work the streets, or die.
and the unemployed breed
with despair driven need,
old people eating dogfood
with plastic spoons....
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poem by Eric Cockrell
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The Death Papers.... (Part Three)
one single unidentified
dropp of water in a unnamed ocean...
reflecting both light and darkness,
driven by the tides to lap
at the shore of the unknown.
singular, but not seperate,
sustaining life without thought...
the slave of gravity's intensity.
do i dare stop to shout:
'i am the ocean, i am the tide! '
or is my voice the echo of voices,
merely primordial passion,
and infinite part?
weep not for me!
the casket is not my home.
it merely holds the tears
of your grasping!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Through The Veil for Dave Walker
there's a light
in the window
of the house
forgotten by time;
a book on the table,
unopened.
footprints on the floor
covered with dust.
a cup in the sink
half-empty.
the wind blows
curtains grey with time....
whispering, whispering....
names that cannot
be heard.
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poem by Eric Cockrell
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Cant Save Your World
i cant save your world for you....
when you dont care enough
to take out the trash.....
when your eyes are blinded
by your stomach, and your ears
hear nothing but the ring of the register....
when your hands, clutching and groping,
never open, never reaching out.
when your ego convinces you
that you're better than all of this;
and your heart's closed for repairs.
when your mind is closed,
and your door is locked....
i cant save your world for you,
because you just dont care!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Stone Riddles (Buddha)
buddha,
stone beneath
the moss.
compassion,
eyes knowing
the self.
self,
illusion, force,
nut's taste!
bodhissatva,
man finally
becoming human.
bodhissatva,
man finally
becoming god.
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poem by Eric Cockrell
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Close Your Mouth!
close your mouth!
if a man is hungry,
feed him!
if a man is sick,
give him medical care.
if a man is homeless,
take him in.
if your leaders demand war,
vote them out,
or overthrow them.
if your system is unjust,
tear it down and start over.
if any other person,
regardless of color, politics,
religion, or sexual orientation,
comes to you...
respect them!
if they come to in in need,
help them.
if they are oppressed,
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poem by Eric Cockrell
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That No One Walks...
we sleep in the place between chapters,
where even silence waits, as if in awe.
my body tingles, be it flesh or spirit,
i am not ready for the grave!
tis the knee of the lover,
the breath of god on my neck!
the candle burns down, and bows...
even the clock trembles with the smallest breeze,
and the pillow weeps perhaps knowing.
i am not the man i thought i knew,
but the fingers tracing the nipple...
when death tastes like passion spilled...
onto the floor that no one walks!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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The Lover's Chronicles (Part Three)
holding autumn's leaf in your hands,
early December... all passion's colors
have melted, into brown in time grown
brittle...
and so i hold your hand, without grasping
so hard as if to lose, yet knowing your
hand... every nuance, every mile, every
destiny come and gone... feeling every
trace of living as if a prayer...
listening to your hand as if to a hymn...
your hand and mine, we rock... the wind blows
in perfect rhythm, we wait... for a time,
and a time, with no need to hurry!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Salvation On A Street Corner
the woman stopped me
coming out of the store:
'do you know Jesus? '
i thought for a moment,
looking at her clothes,
and her Bible....
'yea, i spent the night with Him,
passing out coats and blankets
down at the shelter....
we were gonna do the soup kitchen
today... but they arrested Him this
morning for being an illegal alien....
that just leaves me,
unless you want to go with me! ...'
she just shook her head and walked away....
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poem by Eric Cockrell
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Tainted Water!
snowfall...
words spoken without talking.
history written on drawn faces.
eyes that speak the language
of hunger, ears that feel,
feet that find their way!
we have long been
a people lost in search,
buying religious tokens,
spreading political balm.
we've lost the gift
of understanding silence...
we rattle like bones
in need of flesh!
snowfall...
stillness bridges the moment.
face to face with
light and shadow...
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poem by Eric Cockrell
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