From Greece To Rome (Part Two)
it took the civil rights movement,
the women's movement,
and the laborer's movement...
led by such as Cesar Chavez,
Martin Luther King, Malcolm X,
James Baldwin, Maya Angelou,
just to mention a few.
imprisonment, beatings, marches,
and many are dead now,
sacrificed to the cause.
JFK warned of secret societies,
wanted to pull out of Vietnam...
his brother Bobby stood up
for justice against the wheel...
both killed by the machine.
over 40,000 killed in Vietnam,
riots in the cities of America.
Nixon lied, America fell into stupor,
and those who believed
became part of the masses.
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poem by Eric Cockrell
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Intimate And Random Prayers
the forbidden things
have always fascinated me...
risk, danger.... and the rush of falling.
eternity bleeds,
and the taste of blood on the lips,
strips the senses to the core!
i cannot conceive of having a sexual
encounter with anyone who doesnt read,
question, and think!
even my penis likes to read!
you can see the whole
of mankind's history silhouetted
in a woman's naked body
bathing in candlelight!
the blade of grass
the dog just peed on,
is more sacred than all
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poem by Eric Cockrell
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That Old Man....
that old man who lives down the street,
who just shared a can of Alpo with his blind dog.
who owned the corner grocery when i was a kid,
who helped me out when i was short.
whose father passed it down to him,
whose son was killed in a car wreck.
whose daughter lives somewhere in California,
whose wife died ten years ago.
who was a deacon in the church for years,
who quit going when his wife died.
who put his life savings with 'trusted investors',
who lost it all when everything fell.
who the county's hounding for back taxes,
whose porch is falling down.
who prays that if there is a god...
he'll die and take the dog with him!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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The Hands Of Time!
the hands of a small child,
shaping sand on the beach.
the flutter of wings,
a sparrow's first flight.
seeds planted by hand
in the fresh plowed ground.
the light teasing shadows,
late afternoon to night.
the war hero's silence,
his eyes grown hard.
the family burying the child,
the mother cannot weep.
the hungry stare
of poverty's stink.
the addict's hard edge,
bare rooms, bare walls.
the hanging tree,
and the lovers oak.
the bullet in the chamber,
and the open mission.
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poem by Eric Cockrell
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The Lover's Chronicles (Part Four)
your hair falls in layers as if
a gown, or a veil, behind which
all mystery abides... your eyes
moan, a deep and gutteral spiritual
longing, the history of mankind
abiding there...
your lips, silent, motionless...
yet those eyes the painter's brush!
nightfall itself bows in gratitude.
beginning and end, again and again,
as if the earth breathed somewhere
deep in the softness.
i see the first fire, the shadows on
the walls of the cave. and i hear
drumbeats in the distance... feel
the howling of the wolf on the back
of my neck... and death is there, so
it must be, for there to be life. i
wait in the timeless, lost in your
glance!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Battle Cry 3
point of light, point of death,
passion stinks on your breath,
child of Cain, child of Seth,
there's no reason to believe...
patriot games, hollow masks, stolen names,
mountains crumble, acid rain,
you gotta give to receive...
man and feast, swear allegiance to the Beast,
till all is done and all has ceased,
the painter's brush is ash.
children lost, cant pay the cost,
necessity rules, the truth is tossed...
writing checks we cant cash.
(we're standing on the edge of the light.
lost in the deep darkness of the night.
armed by anger, with no one left to fight,
when right becomes wrong,
and wrong becomes right.)
poem by Eric Cockrell
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I Am A Man!
i never understood...
the need to be popular,
to be the 'in' thing,
to be cool, to be hip,
never understood the need
for fame...
never waited to be patted
on the back,
never wanted to be followed...
i am what i am!
nothing more, nothing less.
a common man,
with a common heart,
a common soul,
and common hard working hands.
i can honestly say
that i have lived,
i have loved,
i have given past
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poem by Eric Cockrell
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Just Because....
just because...
your skin is dark,
and mine is light...
does that demand fear and hate?
are our dreams not the same color?
do both of our hearts not pump red?
just because...
you speak a different language,
and your god has a different name...
does that demand fear and wars?
are our needs not the same?
are our families not tired of the deaths?
just because...
you have money,
and i dont...
does that demand fear and oppression?
is our hunger not one and the same?
do we not both have faces and names?
just because...
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poem by Eric Cockrell
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Sharpening My Axe
back to the grind wheel....
sharpening my axe for another week;
and listening, for the sound
of my own heartbeat
within the heartbeat of the universe,
in the heartbeat of the stranger,
in the heartbeat of my enemy....
i have slept with despair,
with suffering and need....
have wallowed in my own mistakes.
have been lied to, used, and abused....
but at times, to be honest with myself,
i have lied to and abused others
let me move forward with honest hope,
with firm dedication to compassion....
let my every word be a tool,
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poem by Eric Cockrell
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A Buddha's Last Prayer
may every breath i breathe,
help relieve the suffering
of the many...
may every step i take,
be on the path of truth.
may my eyes see myself
in all living beings,
may my heart do the work
that compassion demands.
may i feel every tear,
every hurt, every need.
may i touch with sacred hands.
may my body be a bridge,
and my spirit healing ointment.
may my words fall like rain
on the desert of need.
may i give without hesitation,
and without expectation.
may i grasp the hand that needs help,
and let go of all else.
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poem by Eric Cockrell
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