Dead Man Walking
dead man walking,
fisted hands in empty pockets.
eyes that never look up
and feet that just know the way.
small children running in a graveyard
chasing shadows, silent and grey.
an old burnt out house still smolders,
bare limbs grasping at the sky.
and love is an old bucket,
rusted, leaking on the ground.
that calls your name and
draws your face
in a room that no one enters.
there's only today and now;
yesterday lied, tomorrow died.
the taste on my lips cold and bitter
as arsenic on a rose petal.
poem by Eric Cockrell
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They Lied...
they lied to you...
lied to you about Vietnam.
lied about JFK,
about Bobby Kennedy,
about Martin Luther King.
they lied about trade agreements,
about global warming,
about oil spills,
about mining disasters,
about nuclear power.
they lied about 9/11,
about Iraq, and weapons
of mass destruction.
they lied about Afghanistan,
they're lying about Iran.
they lied about Wall Street,
about the national debt.
they lied yesterday,
and they're lying today.
when are we going to quit
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poem by Eric Cockrell
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Before....
before we needed crucifixion
to identify love...
there was, 'Om'!
before we built eternity
of straw, mud, and bricks...
animals knew the theology
of moon and bare branches!
before we defined life
by what we owned,
life expressed itself...
clouds kissed lonely mountains!
the sparrow knows more
than we can ever hold!
dont speak to me of salvation,
i know death, and beginning!
till the earth, build the fire,
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poem by Eric Cockrell
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Lying Naked
sunset to nightfall.
undressing slowly,
as years pass like shadows
that cant be grasped.
lying naked in the darkness.
the hypnotic hum of the fan,
the cool breeze lapping at my body.
listening for the sound
of footsteps from long ago.
but only the sound of a car passing,
and a neighbor's dog barking.
lying naked in the darkness
my spirit gets up and walks away,
my body calm as fallen leaves
nightfall to eternity.
a kiss, a dropp of blood.
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poem by Eric Cockrell
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Just Poor Folks!
just poor folks,
living in an old house,
sleeping in a corner
'neath old handmade quilts.
scrubbing scarred floors
with pinesol pride mops....
while the smell of cornbread and
beans hangs in the air.....
stuffing cracks in the windows
against the cold...
kerosene heater,
2 five gallon cans....
a bare light bulb
hangs over the table....
they sit in silence....
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poem by Eric Cockrell
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Looking For The Promised Land
we march together....
the homeless, jobless,
the sick and the hungry.
the victims of poverty,
racism, discrimination, and abuse.
black skin, white skin, brown skin all...
people of all nationalities and languages,
male and female, straight and gay.
people of all religions, doubters and atheists.
those who've been imprisoned,
or who've been used up and spit out
by the system.
young and old, with families and alone,
angry, honest, forgiving, demanding...
the chosen people, looking for the promised land
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Self, No Self
self, no self...
does the leaf know the bark?
the bark know the limb?
the limb know the tree?
are they seperate, or one?
do the roots need a name?
the sun and rain ask for thanks?
where does one begin,
and the other end?
is the womb not a grave?
does the soul leave the body?
does the fire ever go out?
or do the embers wait,
warm and steady?
winter to spring, spring to summer,
summer to autumn, autumn to winter.
the tides go out,
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poem by Eric Cockrell
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Eternity, And Such...
eternity, and such...
the stain in the coffee cup,
the holes in the old man's underwear.
the rough tongue of a stray cat,
the shadow moving in the alley.
the trail left by the snail,
paper cups blown by the wind.
the blood left on the highway,
the dog dead in the ditch.
the glass shattered on the floor,
the stink of the body
three days after...
the limb torn from the tree
by the memory of storm.
your pillow, my hat,
a shot of brandy in an empty room.
the sound the heart makes...
when no one can hear!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Eyes Gone Blank
with every breath i take,
the ache of your nearness hurts more.
the lone figure skating on ice
inside the glass globe,
falls and cries, for a moment real!
the sun has left for unknown parts,
and the storm clouds have no conscience.
the doe hit by the car,
quivers in the ditch,
in a bed of empty beer cans,
and shattered headlights.
the faint dampness on your lips,
taunts the half light with tortured madness.
i speak into the void of eyes gone blank,
leaves messages with spiders neath your doorstep!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Fingertips Naked!
tis the day of lovers,
yet the world is ablaze!
gunfire, and bombings,
with machine like hands.
bodies broken and scattered,
mouths that quiver with hunger.
so many alone in the fury,
even the walls have names.
do you love me?
your eyes betray your heart.
be it gravity or madness,
that throws us together.
now destiny wears flesh,
the wind lives inside bones.
stop the lie, cross the bridge,
you have only one home!
napalm to phosphorus,
ice turns to lava...
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poem by Eric Cockrell
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