The Hand On The Door...
we burn our polaroid loves,
licking sulphur matches to remember.
every shadow, every line,
on the face borne by a name.
in paint peeled chairs by dirty windows,
clutching our knees,
and wringing our hearts.
in the still moment,
time's collector hesitates!
and the longing of the hips,
weeps down curtains stained.
when god and death take second place,
to the remembered scent of intimate touch.
are we ever anything more?
then the kiss in the moonlight,
and the hand on the door?
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Turned Back The Clock!
ethanol in his blood,
clear creek water eyes.
the air atop a mountain,
his spirit flies...
a child of the earth,
he names each tree.
fills the empty nest,
sets wild animals free.
dances naked in the firelight,
with shadows in the cave.
makes love on the ground,
no longer afraid.
gone back to himself,
primitive and unbound.
at one with the turning,
the scent, and the sound!
[...] Read more
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Founded On God
you tell me...
this country was founded
on a belief in God.
looking at it from
the Native Americans' side...
it would be
belief in your God
at the expense
of their God...
and so it has been
throughout history!
i really dont believe
God kills off his competition,
nor do i think
morality and freedom
were ever won with a sword.
a compassionate God
never goes off to war,
never invades,
[...] Read more
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Pillars of Truth-3
it's hard, so damned hard!
go to work everyday (if you're lucky)
and pound your head against the wall...
knowing there's no way in hell
you can make enough to survive!
house gone! car gone! savings gone!
no insurance, not enough food to eat!
husbands leave wives, cant do it anymore!
wives leave husbands, want a better life.
and it only gets worse!
the only thing that we have
that they cant take away
are the people that love us...
why in the hell would we throw that away?
poem by Eric Cockrell
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The Poet's Job
the poet's job
is to question
that which cannot
be questioned!
to defy that which
cannot be defied!
to tear down the veil
that covers the stench
of the raw and the real!
to break down the walls
that seperate human beings.
to refuse to follow....
for the sake of following.
to name the names
of the nameless aloud!
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poem by Eric Cockrell
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Communicating!
it's fairly easy for us to pretend
to be something we're not... we all
are guilty of this on occasion. but
it leaves us with a hollow feeling,
the feeling of emptiness...
pretending hinders us on our journey.
it is only in the revealing of who
we are, and what we are, that we grow.
it takes courage to reveal our intimate
natures.... but only by doing so can
we continue to evolve. only by this
chosen action are we able to really
communicate. and only by communicating
do we truly live!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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I Am.... (The Fingers Of Love)
i am the fingers of love...
unlatching the door,
with silent determination.
unbuttoning your blouse,
tracing the line of your neck,
stroking your hidden fire.
playing the strings
of your heart's old guitar,
picking up the pen,
and lighting the match.
digging in the dirt
to plant your dreams,
wiping the tears from
the lines beneath your eyes.
trembling as they tie the bow,
and reach out to touch your casket.
aching with the torrent of passion,
and the years of love's remembrance!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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In The Presence....
in the presence...
we cut and stack wood.
boil water for coffee,
wash dishes and fold clothes.
unwrap layers of new sunlight,
write letters and quietly think.
take long walks with dogs,
and speak to random strangers.
offer a hand, and say thank you,
listen for the sound of wings.
laugh at squirrels bickering,
watch as leaves begin to fall.
help old people load their cars,
share a smoke with a homeless man.
walk in awareness and deep peace,
ask what we can give...
in the presence!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Looking For Jesus
you got up early,
ate breakfast, showered,
put on your best clothes,
picked up your Bible,
got in your car and
drove to church...
looking for Jesus...
went to Sunday School,
said a coupla prayers,
listened to the preacher,
sang a coupla hymns,
made an offering...
looking for Jesus...
shook hands, patted backs,
jumped in your car
to hurry home...
passed an old blind man
in dirty clothes
[...] Read more
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Notes On Respect.... (Number Two)
i will not allow a woman or a child
to be abused or disrespected in my presence...
i do not think racial slurs are humorous.
i'm not interested in being converted
to your religion.
i am not interested in your sexual preference,
not interested in playing games.
i dont care what you own.
i will do anything i can to help you,
but i wont be owned by you.
i will respect your right to opinions,
you will respect mine.
i'm not always a good man,
but i'm a hard enough man to stand my ground.
poem by Eric Cockrell
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