Scent Of The Lover....

i am still water, moonlit and waiting.
i am the crucifix made of fingers,
the letter written in blood.
the fool tripping over windmills,
the beacon from a distant shore.
dust in the corner, dew on the grass,
the eyes of the racoon,
the bat hanging upside down.
the whisper of moss,
the depths of the cave.
the pine tree fallen across the path.
i am the kiss long silent,
the iron skillet, the tin cup.
i am the body of the wind,
without beginning or end.
i am the child alone,
and the woman abused.
the angry man, and the broken glass.
i am the farmhouse deserted,
the voices of ghosts.

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poem by Eric Cockrell
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And So Found Dawn

it was in doubt
that i found faith.
it was in forgiveness
that i found forgiveness.
it was in loss
that i found passion.
it was in suffering
that i found understanding.
it was in letting go
that i found freedom.
it was in the mirror
that i found prayer.
it was in darkness
that i found light.
it was in jail
that i found dignity.
it was in addiction
that i found determination.
it was in giving
that i found love.

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poem by Eric Cockrell
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To Be Reborn

how many deaths must i die
to be reborn....
how many crosses carried,
how many deserts crossed?
how many tears must i cry
(tho they be at night when no one can see) ,
how many bruises, scars...
how many times must i bleed?
if I am not I,
then whose breath this stranger?
whose feet in my shoes?
whose hat on my head?
i stand in the moonlight,
and look at the rafters,
measuring rope inch by inch!

i am quite sure even the snail laughs
at this quarrel between me and me...
i look at the lines beneath my eyes,
and see a small boy,

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poem by Eric Cockrell
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For the People of East Africa

how can we go on not believing,
how can we turn our heads?
when children are starving
and people are dying...
are we alive or are we dead?

our brothers, our sisters,
we can feel your pain from here.
what can we do and
what can we change...
to see the world through your tears?

how can we see and not know
that what's happening to you...
is a part of us, is in
the very heart of us,
we're responsible, we're due!

our brothers, our sisters,
we can feel your pain from here.

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poem by Eric Cockrell
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Ballad (Bells Of Eternity)

with garbled tongues and mouths ablaze,
we walk this hallowed ground.
with angel's wings and demon's dreams,
trying to rhyme the holy sound.
into the depths of human need,
far past the touch of grasp.
the broken glass feel of the naked real,
that doesnt have to ask!

we forge our peace with weapons of war,
our gods are never satisfied.
swords converting, phallic spurting,
deciding who lives and who dies.
we drink the earth with maddened thirst,
and burn the pages of the book.
leaving smoking trails and personal hells,
for those who dare to look.

i cannot but speak, i cant go on,
the silence clutches at my breath.

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poem by Eric Cockrell
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The Hanging Tree.... (What Do We Call It...)

down through the woods
to the clearing where
the hanging tree stood...
sometimes you can still see
the shadows of ghosts,
swinging in the hot summer sun...
now the tree has been cut,
and time has passed,
yet the air's still heavy with guilt.

do we know more?
are we more civilized?
or have we just changed trees,
and gotten better rope?
what do we call the young men
sent to die in the oil wars...
the young people stuck
in the gang ridden slums?
the bullied ones who lose hope?
the illegal immigrants who die for work?

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poem by Eric Cockrell
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Unless We Take Today!

they are killing, beating, torturing,
and imprisoning our brothers and
sisters around the world who dare
to stand up, and speak out with
freedom's voice!
and it has already begun here with
the brutalities committed against the
Occupy movement...
and the recent passage of the 'detainee'
bill, which contrary to what our Republican
'friends' are trying to sell us, can and will
be used against American citizens...
this is a time for prayer, commitment, and
a firm resolve not to back down... they can
take anything they want, but they cannot
take our freedom as long as we are joined,
connected, and one in purpose....
the futures of our children depend on the
choices we make now! we can make this
a better world, but it's going to take hard

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poem by Eric Cockrell
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Battling Ignorance

i know that it feels like
that we are surrounded by,
almost engulfed by, ignorance...
it never fails to amaze me
that people spend so much time,
and energy, looking for someone
to blame.
is it easier to blame, than to take
responsibility?
is it easier to hate, than to love
the unlovable in ourselves and others?
is it easier to close our eyes, and
look the other way, than to see:
1. the faces of the faceless
2. the needs of those in need
3. the facts that your face is
...one of these, and your needs
...the same!

than to feel:

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poem by Eric Cockrell
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The Moment Of Need...

for too long the religion
of America's masses was the
'American dream'...
fueled by token visits to
sterile churches, where for
guilt donations and moments
of penance, fueled by terror
feared images of a capitalistic
god... one achieved the dream
of heaven.
success burnt in opium pipes
while the man in the gutter
remained both faceless, and
wretched.
now the gutters are full of
raw and real bleeding hearts,
and children burn on the altars
of a vengeful god...
the dreams have shattered...

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poem by Eric Cockrell
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I Am... (Bottomless Pool)

i am...
the bottomless pool
at the foot of the cliff,
the moment just before dawn.
the broken window
of the abandoned house,
the tire swing casting shadows.
i am the eyes of god
in the crickets' song,
the shovel caked with dirt.
i am the thrust of the pelvis,
and the death of the soul,
the unseen sweeper of hearts.
i am the tongue that evolves,
the fish that walk on land.
i am the drumbeat of lives remembered.
i am the child we cannot return to,
and the grave waiting in stillness.
i am the crash of ideas,
the eater of thoughts.

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poem by Eric Cockrell
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