Fork In The Road
i have reached
the fork in the road,
now the choice,
both silent and grieving.
i cannot hold starlight
in aging hands,
i cannot turn the tide
with a glance or a wave.
i cannot stop the wars
with my body or my thoughts.
i cannot feed the hungry,
i can only share their hunger.
the snow is falling,
the winds almost cruel,
as the fire i built
dies down to embers...
who am i?
and what have i done?
i find i'm a part
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poem by Eric Cockrell
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The Poetic Experience
writing for me is like hammering
a nail... you keep pounding till
it's driven. what i have tried
to do, in collusion with others,
is to amass a body of work that
celebrates the human in human
beings... with all its pain,
suffering, turmoil, and all the
trials, the human experience is
still the eternal experience...
the only hope for humanity to
survive lies in turning inward.
until we know ourselves, we can
never have the god experience,
and can never truly interact with
others, can never even see others,
much less know them! we are mere
reflections of each other, mere
reflections of god... the sameness
that lies below our differences
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poem by Eric Cockrell
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A Human Statement!
i dont do churches
with stained glass windows
and pews, and copper plates
held by hands beckoning salvation...
my church is lined by trees,
with great rolling hills,
wild animals roam freely,
birds fly overhead!
i dont do dogma,
hellfire and damnation....
we speak compassion
with silent voices!
our prayers are hands,
reaching out to help,
with eyes that see sameness,
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poem by Eric Cockrell
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Liberty
liberty
does not come in classes,
genders, colors, or creeds...
cannot be bought,
or sold,
bartered, or pawned.
cannot ever be for the few
at the expense of the many!
is not a political issue,
or a budget cut,
or a 'war against terror'!
liberty begins within
the human heart,
is joined from soul to soul
with both sameness and difference.
one person's liberty is dependant
upon the liberty of those
around him... liberty is responsible!
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poem by Eric Cockrell
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Pillars of Truth-2
divide and conquer.
they've worked this old adage well.
white against black, both against hispanic,
jew against christian, christian against muslim,
straight against gay, republican against democrat...
they play it to the hilt...
destroy the unions, limit free speech,
ban books that make you think...
ignorance is bliss!
just dont let the common people unite,
dont let them think, or question...
keep them busy struggling to survive...
hope is dangerous!
middle east problems, raise the gas prices...
wait a little while, food prices follow.
give 'em fox news, keep 'em hooked on xanax,
give them tiger, charlie sheen, and lindsay lohan.
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poem by Eric Cockrell
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The Sounds Of Living And Dying
listening to the sounds,
earth turning seasons,
waves pounding against
distant shores... fishing boats
setting out to sea....oil rigs
pulsing in demonic rhythm...
big trucks barreling down
faceless interstates... tractors
getting ready to rip the earth....
babies being born, lovers
groaning with passion...
gunfire, bombs exploding!
the silent whispers of the homeless...
gravediggers digging graves.
carpenters pounding nails...
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poem by Eric Cockrell
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Is Paid!
somewhere inside the dead body of the squirrel,
in halting silence beneath the bare-limbed oak....
lies the secret to stopping the wars.
while cars race by in hungry blindness,
and peoples faces disappear into pockets.
now the sidewalk bar near deserted,
i stole a cigarette between drinks.
even the leaves in self absorbed dying,
never mention or realize.
as a priest trips over the curb,
in haste for the afternoon prayer.
while those who believe in god buy matches,
those who dont shovels and bricks.
and soldiers huddle around righteous fires,
as oil rigs pound behind vacant homes.
and mirrors tremble in the adjoining room,
where the cost of reckoning is paid!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Wings Headed South
mid-afternoon sleepy eyed,
late summer sun defying autumnal chill.
dogs pray silent prayers
that passing cars bow to.
and the hum of being vibrates
from somewhere undefined within...
counting canned food by threatened days,
cigarettes burn on slow crosses.
while still the grass turns brown
as if to hide in the shadow of dirt.
too early for a drink...
and black coffee demands you follow.
what made sense is now gibberish,
shadowy friends pull unseen triggers,
and exchange small talk at the funeral.
somewhere between sadness, anger, and an erection...
listening for the sound of wings headed south,
as if some implied redemption.
quietly smiling, tense, and hopeful!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Animal Rights!
animals have feelings
thoughts, needs, desires,
and emotions just as we do.
they're less likely to hide them,
or to lie about them...
and they love,
with undying hearts.
they have learned the beauty
of being who they are....
would that we could learn from them!
the next time someone tells you
that your dog or your cat,
your horse, or whatever,
doesnt have a soul,
slap them back into reality!
wolves pray when they howl.
whales talk across oceans.
birds define freedom with flight.
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poem by Eric Cockrell
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I Believe So...
does the wind choose to blow?
do rivers choose to run?
does your heart choose to beat?
i believe so...
does the earth choose to turn,
in perfect rhythm, year by year?
do the tides choose to come and go,
in cadence with the moon?
i believe so...
does society choose to be oppressed,
if only by apathy's inaction?
do we choose to let people starve
when we turn the other head?
i believe so...
do we choose war over peace,
to feed the need of greed?
do we choose to destroy nature
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poem by Eric Cockrell
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