Why Would I....
if i couldnt trust you
enough to sit down and
eat with you...
why would i vote for you?
if your words are laced
with hatred, deception, and fear...
why would i vote for you?
if you're part of the problem,
and see no need to change...
why would i vote for you?
if you're so insulated
in your affluent world...
why would i vote for you?
if you're drunk on apathy,
and cant feel the need and the hunger...
why would i vote for you?
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poem by Eric Cockrell
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Love Without Remorse!
lightning bugs in winter,
your kisses almost as rare!
a fallout shelter in the midst of a slum,
on the last day on earth!
a bowl of rice for the hungry,
and oil rigs shut down by conscience....
guns and swords to shovels and hoes,
salvation preachers to salvation workers!
political liars to human concern,
profit turned to compassion.
prejudice to acceptance,
lonliness to involvement....
the earth treated with reverence,
common people treated with fairness...
lightning bugs in winter....
love without remorse!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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More Intimate Prayers.... (Random)
are we alive?
or do we reside in death?
merely staring through an open window
at the reflection of our lives
in a mirror?
i saw Jesus's eyes
in the eyes of the stray dog...
and so didnt have to ask his name!
how many buddhas
did you kill cutting down trees
to widen the road?
when the path was already there!
a wilted rose petal
knows more about love than
we will ever know!
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poem by Eric Cockrell
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A Wind That Has No Name
there is a wind that has no name,
that comes from within afar;
a song that wears a human face,
dust from a distant star.
a river that flows from heart to heart,
a fire that feeds itself.
a ship unmanned on stormy seas,
the hand that rings the bell.
a child is born, a friend has died,
and so the circle goes on.
the memories of the outstretched hand,
lives in the stillness before dawn.
i cannot hold or form with words
that which begins and ends.
so i'll fly to you with a robin's wings,
your lover, and your friend.
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Revolution Now, Freedom
revolution now...
it's no longer
a matter of choice....
too much hurt and need,
too much despair;
and you're not doing
anything real to fix it.
we've been fed the lie,
but it doesnt fill the bellies
of the hungry, the jobless,
and the poor...
while you keep trading,
exacting profit from oppression,
and insulating yourselves
from the beating of hearts.
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poem by Eric Cockrell
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A True Companion!
we collide,
rogue stars travelling darkness,
upper lip and bottom lip,
the knife and the flesh.
searching, forever searching,
for the sound inside raindrops,
and the way stone tastes,
where no one has walked.
fire and log, or log and fire,
we care not...
drinking the paint off the walls,
releasing storm, scattering dust.
sound and echo, or echo and sound...
we lay naked on the steps,
of journey and fire!
if just for a moment,
lived before, perhaps again...
we find a true companion
who asks nothing more than time!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Body Of A Soul
with hands of fire,
and feet of clay,
forming worlds from
insignificant thoughts....
taking moments peeled
from a glance by chance...
forming stars from dust
that come raining down,
echoing in the empty....
for what is not oft is,
each and all have purpose...
when what cant be seen,
cant be held or defined...
given by the spirit that waits
and calls us to our selves;
and that which is finished
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poem by Eric Cockrell
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Naked And True!
i am the sound
of your heart breaking.
i am the key,
the hand on the knob.
i am the whisper
of your soul aching.
the light in your eyes,
your tears as you sob.
you are the last page,
in this book unfinished.
you are the candle,
no one else can light.
you are the flood,
that cant be diminished.
you are the dawn,
in my darkest night.
we are the sound and the echo,
yesterday and tomorrow.
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poem by Eric Cockrell
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Whose Journey?
i am sick
of a thousand births
in a thousand forms,
is light not light?
is not the water dripping
from the faucet,
the same water that
fills the ocean?
is not night the darkness
of the womb?
be not the fallen leaf the bud
of another time?
is not the old man just buried,
the baby in the mother's arms?
is not the soldier that just fired,
the child killed by the bombing?
is not the lover that just left,
the young girl in first love?
is not the king of the world,
the begger in the alley?
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poem by Eric Cockrell
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For The Elite Political Machine!
vote for me,
i'll sell your soul,
but do it in a way,
you'll hardly know.
give me your sons,
i'll give you ribbons.
give me your poor,
i'll fill my prisons.
pump that oil,
mine that coal.
nuclear meltdown,
gotta meet my goal.
stand in lines,
begging for work.
i'll take your hearts,
i'll take your shirts!
the cost of freedom,
yours for mine.
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poem by Eric Cockrell
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