The War Machines... (If)
the war machines
of the world,
spend enough money
every eight days,
to feed the hungry
of the world for a year!
what the hell are we thinking?
if we fed the hungry,
housed the homeless,
took care of the sick,
and gave everyone the chance
to work for a fair wage...
what would be left to fight for?
if we taxed the rich,
and brought down the concept
of different classes...
if we learned to consume
only what we really need,
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poem by Eric Cockrell
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Wherever These Feet May Roam.....
be that land so far so lost,
where freedom first touched these lips.
where the taint of love
scorched heart and soul,
where the path met by howl and want.
where the song found words,
and the night named stars,
where moonlight be the holy drink.
where the rebel rose courted moss and stone,
where the fire was lit by true bent hope.
where the wind undressed,
and the mountains wept,
and the sea called me home.
where the light was forged from human sweat,
as angels danced barefoot by night.
where the promise of dawn be more than enough,
and the spirit walked through walls!
be that land my home my heart's desire,
wherever these feet may roam!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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The Choice Is Yours
i cant take the gun
from your hand...
cant take your finger
from the trigger...
i cant cut down the rope
you've tied to the rafter....
i cant remove the darkness
you're clinging to with
all of your might....
the 'self' that's lying to you
stands in the way....
it seems easier to stay
in your cell... than
to break free and live....
but life is not what it seems!
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poem by Eric Cockrell
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The Path
walking the path...
uphill, downhill,
winding amid the rocks,
leaving behind
footprints in the sand
that the wind erases...
sometimes side by side,
often alone... with no map,
no compass to point the way.
it's different for each of us;
no one else can do it for us.
this journey of the spirit
discovering itself...
and that which we call 'God'.
often lonely... we fight our way
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poem by Eric Cockrell
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The Disease
if we do not evolve as a society,
then our society dies...
we have become a plastic world.
addicted to the buying and the selling.
we feed the 'i' till we're sick...
we have become callous, indifferent,
victims of our own egos.
we use sex to sell, we follow the lie,
we turn our backs on those in need...
and the only time we feel anything
is when it happens to us.
we treat our environment with total disrespect,
we abuse animals, we treat other people
like numbers without names...
we play at religion, we hide from our selves...
and we wonder what happened!
we exist in total numbness,
forgetting what living feels like.
we have become the disease!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Armageddon Diaries
throughout history, when the working people
of the world have been oppressed, and made
to live lives of bondage, they have risen
up and overthrown the government that oppressed them.
when the few have ruled out of their greed,
forgetting where their bread came from, they
have neen taken down.
now, more than ever, both here and around the
world, the common, everyday, decent, believing,
working people have had enough!
knowing, money doesnt make a better person, and
shouldnt make a different set of rules!
it's time for a new day, and what has to be
done, has to be done! there are too many hungry
and homeless, too many people without.
sieze the day!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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God's Breath
i felt God's breath upon me
as i lay sleepless....
my soul yearning to escape
the confines of flesh and bone....
my spirit burning with the need
to unlock the simple....
that my understanding could not define....
shooting stars, flash moments of brilliance
in a sky both dark and deep....
beyond striving, beyond suffering,
to the electric pulse without barriers.
beyond fear, and all discerning....
the hidden place without
beginning or end....
the touch that opens a flower,
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poem by Eric Cockrell
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Holiness Stripped Naked!
the stink, homeless man,
five days same clothes,
no way to bathe...
vomit crusted hunger,
piss, and garbage rolled.....
the perfume of God.
angry, bruised, scared,
face hollow, lips tremble....
love's fists, used, abused,
she walks the corner, alone....
the daughter of God.
crack pipe, stolen gun,
fear rush, dead despair,
concrete jungle, wrong color,
wrong place, wrong time,
prison bound, unmarked grave,
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poem by Eric Cockrell
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On Betrayal
we often feel as if we've been betrayed...
and we're hurt, angry, scarred, and vindictive...
but the truth is we lead lives of betrayal.
times we fail others, times we fail ourselves.
times when we mean to do the right thing,
and dont follow through.
times we excuse ourselves by
saying we're following our heart.
times we turn away,
and blame it on circumstance.
times we dont dare to do what life demands.
times we choose indifference,
times we think we've already given enough.
times we choose the easy way out.
times we are not grateful...
times we dont forgive but expect forgiveness.
times we dont speak what our heart feels,
until it's too late....
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Opened The Door
the hand that
balled into a fist,
and struck another
man down...
the hand that stole
the money to feed
his family that was hungry....
the hand that wrote angry words,
threw a stone through the window.
the hand that shut the door,
leaving the stranger outside...
the hand that tore
down all that it had built,
feeling the rage of alone....
the hand that pulled the trigger,
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poem by Eric Cockrell
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