One Breath, One Hunger!
if you've not heard
anything else that i've said...
look in the mirror,
and see yourself.
look at all others,
and see yourself.
look for God,
and see yourself.
look at yourself,
and see all of life.
look at yourself,
and see all those suffering.
look at yourself,
and see all others.
look at yourself,
and see God!
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poem by Eric Cockrell
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Last Door To Be Opened!
horses burst through the gate,
gallop across the field,
heads held high and nostrils flared.
while owls whisper in dark gowned trees,
and the wind tugs at the mountains.
moonlight sifting through the clouds,
dogs bark from a distant door.
and the grass lies wet with desire,
waiting for the steps of the lover!
i built a small fire in the clearing,
took off my clothes and danced
to the hidden beat.
mumbling words that had no form,
while the sleeping swallow smiled.
reared back with primal instinct,
let forth the howl of want.
while ants played tiny drums,
and thunder clashed in perfect time.
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poem by Eric Cockrell
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Nameless Selves
it is only I,
nameless selves,
dissolving, evolving...
appearing, taking form,
only to disappear back
into formless fermentation.
leaving only the stink of living...
the green scent of plants unfolding,
the grey soot linger of poverty,
of countless stones laid,
and trod upon.
blood and sweat and shit and prayers,
the pine walls of eternal casket.
the soured milk of nipple bitter,
the stench of rope,
too close to the flame.
rich red clay worn by infidel boots,
whose fathers were unknown.
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poem by Eric Cockrell
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Till The Land
till the land, till the land,
plant the seeds, pray for rain.
feed your cows and your pigs,
always stop to give thanks.
close to the earth, the seasons,
to your family, to your heart....
to your neighbors, to your friends, .
do your best, do your part.
till the land, till the land,
plant the seeds, pray for rain.
feed your cows and your chickens,
always stop to give thanks.
from generation to generation,
the traditions handed down.
take care of the land you work,
keep the wheel going 'round.
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poem by Eric Cockrell
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Pillars of Truth
walking across the semi-frozen grass with my old dog....
listening to the crunch, the sound of morning birds singing...
watching the sun come up over the horizon, and thinking.
Carlin, like so many others, was right! we are owned.
this quit being a democracy a long time ago.
the rich, the elite, the corporate gods, call all the shots.
they buy both the laws and the lawmakers. they pick the
president...
they use wars, mis-information and fears, to manipulate
the common people. they whip us into patriotic fevers, and
lead us like sheep to the slaughter.
they tie the economy to these wars, and keep us down.
driven by the greed of the oil barons, they use poverty and
ignorance as a whip.
they use racial prejudice to divide us... they fan this prejudice...
they also use religion... encouraging people to believe that everyone
whose beliefs' are different are dangerous.
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Thoughts On Love....
the hardest thing we will ever do
is to love. for love undresses the
parts of us with which we're not
so familiar...
there is no grasping in love, no
real or implied ownership. that
which we give in time returns, but
who holds a clock to the tides?
love is itself a journey that often
takes many lifetimes... it is not
an end in itself, love is the journey.
time and experience and often tragedy
ignite the flame... but the fire burns
long and slow.
love is a way of seeing, a depth of seeing,
when the eyes touch and realize. love is
the gift of moments, and only moments are
eternal.
love hears from the heart, spoken and unspoken.
love gives, without thought or guilt.
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poem by Eric Cockrell
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The Children Of Love...
sometimes it seems we travel
on long journeys as far away from
ourselves as we can....
before we can find the way
and the means to come home.
often, somewhere in the seasons
of our living, love is like that.
we become so numbed by the struggle
to merely exist, that we lose our
intimate connection....
we lose our sense of taste, of smell,
our very sense of touch...
and it is this loss, if we are lucky,
that redeems us, that strips us
and brings us back to the basic
instincts of our heart...
the storm comes, destroying
all the false images we've worshipped....
yet the rain washes our bodies,
the very bodies of our souls clean....
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poem by Eric Cockrell
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You Wanted To Know....
the starving child you saw on your tv screen,
the one that made you turn the channel.
the old homeless man who tried to bum a dollar
when you were pumping gas...
whose hands were shaking,
who smelled like trash,
who you made fun of when you left...
the one you gave 50 cents to,
just to get away from...
the young painted up girl you called a whore,
the guy strung out on pills
buying groceries with food stamps...
the veteran who came home
to find his family gone....
no job, no home, he blew his brains out!
the gay boy who slit his wrists,
tired of being bullied.
the old couple evicted broke and sick....
the bodies of women and children killed by the drones,
the young man in prison who just got gang raped.
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poem by Eric Cockrell
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Rough Carpenter...
i am only the rough carpenter
building a hapless shelter...
for strays, dogs and cats,
old people and young anarchists.
addicts, whores, ex-cons, and thieves.
street bums, farmers left homeless,
angry young students...
spiders, snails, ants, and moths.
out of work elephants,
turtles who have lost their shell.
small birds fallen from the nest,
both prodigals and dreamers.
third world refugees,
the blind, and the deaf.
sons and daughters,
mothers and fathers...
people bound by tears,
fears, and their own failures.
small people living small lives,
and renegade priests...
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poem by Eric Cockrell
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The Breath Of God....
the breath of god is not selective,
it blows on all in sacred gift.
all that lives a part of each and all,
one being cannot suffer without another hurting.
man's inhumanity to man,
the legacy of our guilt.
until we all take up the plow,
the field will not bring forth peace.
god didnt make religion, man did...
and out of his own fears and pride,
the rules of holiness.
but man, woman, animal, and plant
were created to live in equal and sacred manner!
the fear of man lashes out,
and kills to convert....
the love of man joins hands,
feeds the hungry, and houses the homeless.
from religion we created war,
and god wept in silence.
our egos grew, and we took, we always took...
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poem by Eric Cockrell
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