My Grandfather
my grandfather drowned
while fishing...
i was only fourteen,
i took the call.
in the whirl of
funeral arrangements,
preachers, headstones,
and old hymns...
too much was forgotten.
he gave me my first
pocket knife, showed me
how to sharpen it....
when i grew up
i sharpened knives
for all the women
in the neighborhood.
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poem by Eric Cockrell
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The God Of Gasoline!
for every gallon of gasoline...
how many children killed?
how many families destroyed
by the bombs?
how many countries ravaged,
how many peoples left
to live in abject poverty?
how many of your own sons
sent to battle,
killed or maimed?
how much pollution in the air?
how many oceans defiled?
how much sea life squandered?
how many political lies told?
how much hatred spread?
how many fat cats getting fatter?
how many hours of work?
gasoline...
the god of food supplies,
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poem by Eric Cockrell
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Be It Love?
be it love?
then there must be thunder,
lightning, and wind!
the moon must be shaken,
the waves drift askew!
snow's falling in summer,
roses bloom in December.
stars that fell from the sky,
rise up and walk!
tears taste like brandy,
the tongue smokes with desire.
the trees go naked and dance,
to the song of the mountains.
men are bearing children,
while women smoke cigars.
and soldiers sit down in dialogue,
every child is fed.
the wolf lies with the rabbit,
darkness lights up the world,
and prayer takes bodies....
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poem by Eric Cockrell
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On Human Sexuality...
we understand very little about sexuality...
buying and selling cheap versions of the
fire on a day to day basis...
sex is not a phone call, a text message,
or the culmination of a night on the town...
we confuse masturbation with communication...
intimacy demands honest heart to heart
conversation... companionship... and a shared
journey....
to touch in the deepest manner we have to
know who we are.... we touch with both
our darkness and our light....
this touch is the gift of giving... unrestrained,
sensual, gentle, and borne of peace.
the act of joining... a thousand tiny deaths,
bringing forth new life!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Stray Dogs Lapping
stray dogs lapping
at the bloody tracks
the homeless leave in the snow.
burnt out Marlboro fingers
shaking with the cold...
small children's big eyes screaming
with silent stinking fear!
and the halls and the walls
of the traders vibrate with smoke...
nothing gained, nothing lost,
in the land of nothing....
my grandmother's Bible lays by
the stove that was never empty...
my father sits and stares at the walls,
listening for the echo of....
my mother's voice....
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poem by Eric Cockrell
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The Infidel!
i am the one
who walked with the Nazarene...
who stood in silence,
listening and watching.
i distributed the food
that fed the crowds,
i helped the sick
make their way to Him...
i stood defiant as He
cleaned out the temple.
i helped move the stone
from the grave of Lazarus...
i shuddered among the lepers,
put down my stone
as He let the whore go...
bailed water in the boat
till He calmed the seas...
i heard His last prayer
at Gethsemene...
saw and felt the tears of blood...
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poem by Eric Cockrell
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With Broken People.....
i seem to do better,
to be able to communicate better,
with broken people.
knocked down, bruised, wounded,
devastated by loss,
but still walking people.
people who've tasted love,
who've drank fully from the cup of living,
people with scars....
for these are the people
who have the capacity to fly!
if you've never wrestled demons,
how can you know what an angel is.
if you dont know the depths of darkness,
you will never see the light.
if you've never had to break chains,
how can you know freedom?
these are my people...
my philosophy is kindness,
compassion, and involvement...
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poem by Eric Cockrell
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Infinite Wisdom...
'end of times, end of days,
only the strong will survive.
call it justice, the American way,
call it the great lie! ...'
we have made an incredible
mess of this world...
wars, greed, pollution,
poverty, enslavement,
human rights abuses,
hunger, sickness, homelessness...
that's on us!
you want me to believe...
that God, in his infinite wisdom,
is going to come and bail us out...
what if God, in his infinite wisdom,
showed up with a shovel,
and a wheelbarrow...
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poem by Eric Cockrell
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Journey You Must Take...
i often wonder...
if i'm preaching to the choir,
skimming rocks across a lake,
building kingdoms in the sand.
do you hear what i'm hearing?
do you feel the shudder, and the shake?
do you lie sleepless in the night?
do you walk barefoot into the darkness?
are my words made of stone?
of feathers? of dust?
is my heart an open door,
with no knob, no lock, no key?
i cannot hold the wind
in my old hands...
i know, for i have tried!
nor capture moonlight in a bowl.
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poem by Eric Cockrell
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Soldiers
soldiers, soldiers,
marching in dead time.
ghouls without faces,
in mechanical rhyme.
paid for, paid off,
eyes open and blind.
hearts severed from the soul,
soul severed from the mind.
gunfire, racism,
treat women like a toy.
grown men without mothers,
fathers, just boys.
gang bangers, pimp daddies,
kings of purgatory.
bad drugs, bad days,
and nights without joy.
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poem by Eric Cockrell
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