Assimilate!
assimilate...
the act of wholeness;
that which you're fighting
is another part of yourself!
we use each other as mirrors
that reveal our darknesses...
yet we are no different,
there is no seperation!
one cannot breathe
without the other's breath...
one cannot be free
unless all are free!
there can be no healing
unless all are healed!
what we blame or put on others
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poem by Eric Cockrell
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It Takes.... (To Be Human!)
it takes sweat,
callouses, bruises,
tears, passion and wetness...
it takes hugs, deep thinking,
the root of anger,
and the bridge of kindness...
dirty feet, dirty hands,
naked hearts,
the stink of bodies...
joining, touching, standing,
falling, getting back up...
cursing, praying, singing,
breathing, fucking, holding close...
smiling, giving, sharing, losing,
giving a damn....
listening, reading, searching,
questioning, believing....
daring, trusting, flying,
sitting in deep silence waiting...
forgiveness walking,
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poem by Eric Cockrell
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Talking.... (Who Listens?)
even the silence of the night talks,
small children talk in their dreams;
old people talk staring out windows...
trees talk shedding leaves,
empty buildings talk to ghosts;
dead bones talk to the wind...
the wind talks those who mourn.
the hungry talk to their oppressors,
the prisoner talks to the walls.
the desperate talk to the noose,
lovers talk with simple touch.
soldiers talk to their fears,
the unborn talk to our decisions.
the moon talks to the night,
and the night talks to the dawn.
the soul of man talks,
and calls it god.
the conscience talks to the heart.
death talks to the living....
who listens?
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poem by Eric Cockrell
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Would That...
would that we knew,
what fireflies know.
would that we went,
where the setting sun goes.
would that our pride,
gave way to our knees.
would that our eyes,
felt what we see.
would that our prayers,
had hands and feet.
would that our minds,
and our hearts would meet.
would that our tongues,
spoke familiar and true.
would that the real me,
met the real you!
would that the bridge,
be sure and crossed.
would that love be our goal,
and living the cost.
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poem by Eric Cockrell
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Dont Call Me God!
dont call me God!
dont limit me to your tribal names!
dont wrap me in your conceptual boxes,
i'm not a trinket or a talisman!
dont imprison me in your temples,
i am not aloof and untouchable!
you cant buy me with your offerings,
you cant use me like a sword!
dont limit me to a frail body,
dont call me father or mother!
for i am life itself,
evolving in a thousand different forms!
you pray to me when you give,
when you reach out to those in need.
you praise me when you live,
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poem by Eric Cockrell
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The Sounds, Within And Without
have you ever listened
to the sounds of
a young boy praying
after his father and mother
have split up
have you heard the sound
a small animal makes when
it's hit by a car?
kinda like the sound a child makes
when it's split open by friendly fire!
have you felt the deep down
sound the young boy makes
when the judge sentences him
to hard time
the sound you cant see on his face
have you heard the sound
of the old man's heart
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poem by Eric Cockrell
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Where You Been, Baby?
where you been, baby?
where you been?
anywhere and everywhere,
but mostly nowhere...
listening to the paint
come screaming off the walls!
if it stinks,
it has my name.
if it bleeds,
it has my face!
if it howls,
it aint just the wind...
it's me come hungry searching
for the fire and the want.
shadows unto shadows,
we pass leaving scars...
silence unto silence,
hearts groping for hearts!
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poem by Eric Cockrell
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What If... (To Be Human)
what if we went to war,
and just stopped?
what if we did what we do best,
and quit worrying about profit?
what if we housed the homeless,
and fed the hungry?
what if we were blinded
to the color of skin?
what if we did away with religions,
and searched the spiritual?
what if we forgave all debts,
and gave away what we owned?
what if we overthrew governments,
and became governments of people...
that chose to work together?
what if we quit drilling oil,
and found another way?
what if we destroyed
every nuclear weapon?
what if we saw each other as equal,
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poem by Eric Cockrell
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Burn And Rage
alone...
in a room of voices,
dirty curtains sweating,
bodies without heat!
you buried me,
a 100 miles back...
poured milk on my grave,
and answered the phone.
but even the scar throbs,
the moon calls...
and the fire in the fugitive field,
burns down.
old men tell stories,
old poets burn and rage...
run with wolves, mad and hungry,
for touch, skin, and need!
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poem by Eric Cockrell
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Dont Cry For Me, Jesus
dont cry for me, Jesus,
it should be me crying for you.
when those that invoke your name,
do so on the field of battle;
in the name of prejudice and hatreds,
from well insulated rooms,
padded against the cries
of the needy and hungry.
in the name of a 'holiness'
that forgets the sacredness of life.
in the name of a justice
that sees colors and wealth and privilege.
dont cry for me, Jesus,
for they would leave you
on that old cross,
and invoke your name like magic
to absolve well planned sins.
dont cry for me, Jesus...
cry for those too deaf to hear,
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poem by Eric Cockrell
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