Prisoner Of Myself!

for too long
i was a prisoner...
a prisoner of myself!
held captive by desires
that numbed my longing..
settling for second hand shoes,
and paths already forged..
convinced i was sacrificing
my spirit for my heart.

that wont fly anymore.
i'm too damned old to pretend,
even to myself.
though the man in the mirror
often disappoints me,
he is what he is!

this body beat down and worn,
this spirit demands its freedom.
love was never a light

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poem by Eric Cockrell
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The Family Of People

i took the multi-colored hand
that pulled me up out of the ditch,
reaching back to grab another's hand,

and do the same for him.
i walked the streets with those
who came from other places....

i took the time to listen
to their stories and their needs.
i stood with them in lines,

in the face of the furor....
i looked into the eyes
of their children, felt their heartbeats....

and i knew in my own heart
there's no real difference there....
people and their families

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poem by Eric Cockrell
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Fallen, Empty, And Broken

fallen soldier
fallen sky
fallen angel
from on high
fallen heartache
fallen soul
fallen man
losing control

empty bed
empty arms
empty dreams
empty heart
empty wallet
empty hands
cant take nothin'
from an empty man

broken promises
broken vows

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poem by Eric Cockrell
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No Sight Of Tracks...

how many times,
must i die today?
my arms are weary,
my eyes are blurred.
how many soul trinkets,
must i bury in the sand...
only to walk away,
leaving no footprints?

i know nothing,
but what i hear and i taste.
i have no baggage,
and no epitaph.
this body but seed,
this spirit but rain...
i long for the wind,
the web, and the hill!

when bones become wings,
and forever tiny buds.

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poem by Eric Cockrell
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Sons Of God!

and the sons of god walked among us,
their hands dirtied with the work.
with eyes that saw the naked,

and ears that heard the cry.
speaking the languages of need,
without need for veil or crucifix.

unknown, unheralded, soft spoken,
taking little for they had no need...
other than the works of healing,

bathed in the light of forgiveness.
believing, caring, touching...
without title or even name....

perhaps they've walked beside you,
and you thought but the wind!
the sons of god dressed as humans,

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poem by Eric Cockrell
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Blunt Questions!

does a falling star
know that it's falling?
does the green leaf know
that autumn comes?

does the unborn child
know his mother's face?
does the murderer know
his victim is himself?

does the cloud know
that the rain is needed?
does the day know
it was born at night?

does the peacemaker know
that the bullets are his?
does the liar know
that the truth has won?

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poem by Eric Cockrell
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Borrowed

borrowed shirts, borrowed shoes,
borrowed books, borrowed thoughts,
borrowed bed, borrowed lover,
borrowed dreams, borrowed salt.

borrowed children, borrowed mothers,
borrowed study, borrowed lives.
borrowed God, borrowed heaven,
borrowed killers with borrowed knives.

borrowed flags, borrowed lies,
borrowed virtue, borrowed freedom.
borrowed bombs, borrowed bullets,
borrowed puppets, borrowed kingdoms.

borrowed soup bowls, borrowed numbers,
borrowed tents, borrowed bridge.
borrowed hope, borrowed survival,
borrowed till it's sacrilige!

poem by Eric Cockrell
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Spontaneous Electricity (A Man)

a man cannot, and should not,
be judged by what he owns or
possesses. the only true judge-
ment comes in what he does with
his time, to redeem his time...
by the actions he becomes in the
battle to restore dignity and
humanity to the human race.
we are then what we give...our
words must follow the flesh around
our hearts, must be defined by
compassion...
true deliverence is deliverence
from the apathetic, , , true freedom,
freedom from the concept of self...
every grain of sand, individual and
important... but we all together
make the desert!

poem by Eric Cockrell
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Every Child!

the faces of...
every child who'll
go to bed hungry tonite...
every child afraid to sleep
for fear of the soldiers,
the bullets, the bombs....
every child abused
by his parents...
every child humiliated
for being different.
every child who's never
known his own father...
every child with no hope
for an education...
every child sleeping
in homeless cars.
every child alone,
lonely, without love.
every child of every broken home,
every child, every color, every country...

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poem by Eric Cockrell
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I Wont Buy It!

if you're selling salvation
for a one time donation...
i wont buy it!
if you're selling comfort
at the expense of the poor...
i wont buy it!
if you're selling protection
at the cost of individual rights...
i wont buy it!
if you're selling love
bought with diamonds and drugs...
i wont buy it!
if you're selling truth,
but your version of truth...
i wont buy it!
if you're selling today
at the final cost of tomorrow...
i wont buy it!
if you're selling freedom
fed by guns and invasions,

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poem by Eric Cockrell
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