To Find The Home!

i drink the cup
that is your flesh...
i revere your scars,
your bruises,
the stink of your heart.
the scent of your eyes,
the silence of your ears...
my tongue writes your body
on infinity's glass!

i listen for your voice
beneath the trees.
i feel your nearness
in the hoot of the owl.
i share your anguish
by the silent small fire....
the horse i ride,
bears your name.

i am the ghost of city streets,

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poem by Eric Cockrell
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Who Am I? I Am! (Part Three)

who am i?
i dare speak again...

i am the migrant worker,
going from field to field,
none of which i own.
i am the addict gone straight,
the saint addicted to sin.
i am the child adopted
by women life partners,
loved and fulfilled,
and taught to respect.
i am protest, i am questioning,
i am doubt, i am reasoning.
i am the teacher, the mill worker,
the doctor, the dairy hand.
i am love and sweat,
the passion that trembles.
i am failure and forgiveness,
i am the crack in your mirror.

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poem by Eric Cockrell
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I Am (Blunt Edge)

i am...
the blunt edge, the jagged rim.
the cold shock of truth,
the common sense statement.
the nuclear missiles dismantled,
and the guns laid down.
the food needed for the hungry,
and the collapse of systems.
i am equal distribution,
the need and right to work.
i am Friday night, and Sunday morning,
the wedding dress put away.
i am education for the poor,
and rehab for the addict.
i am the dignity of death
made by the dignity of life!
i am the rose and the broken mower,
the cow milked every morning.
i am the poetry of the common,
and the sacred ground they walk.

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poem by Eric Cockrell
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The Walking Poor

the walking poor,
from the housing projects,
and the trailer parks...

month to month,
till the checks run out...
food stamp cards,

small items stolen and pawned,
trading pills, or meth for
day to day...

the walking poor,
a multi-colored sea,
lapping at the shore of prosperity

like a bastard dog....
salvation army dressed,
often mission fed,

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poem by Eric Cockrell
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Half In Day, Half In Night!

what if you moved the mountain?
raised your hand and stilled the storm?
fed the hungry, healed the sick,
and stood up and stopped all wars?
what if you peeled back the mask of prejudice,
and exposed the beating heart?
what if you walked on the water?
what if you built a temple,
using only your own hands?
what if you made your life a prayer?
what if you gave all you had to the poor?
what if you did all of this,
and it still wasnt enough?
would you be willing to go on?

what if i gave you my heart,
my spirit, and my soul?
and laid my body at your feet,
sacrificing my dreams for yours?
what if i stood up like a man

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poem by Eric Cockrell
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Ballad for the Forgotten Workers

down by the river, down on the street,
past the empty factory buildings,
smokestacks that no longer smoke.
past the run down tenements,
past the vacant store fronts.
to fires that dont burn, and...
...engines that dont stroke.

down the road, leaving the city behind,
there's miles and miles of fields,
stone silent and turning brown.
tractors rusting in the sun,
a bucket by the well...
old house lies empty, falling down.

the sea of hands lost forever;
red and white, brown, and black.
headstones in the parking lots,
but they're never coming back.
built your cities, built your country,

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poem by Eric Cockrell
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Swollen (Chapter Two)

she drove across town,
past the empty warehouses,
to a quiet neighborhood down
on the poor side.
she helped him into the house,
past the foreclosure notice
on the door. there were no
lights, and it was cold.
in the little room at the back
of the house she lit a candle.
she helped him to a chair.
he heard a rustling in the corner.
she walked over and picked the baby
up and held him close.
he could see the blood crusting
on her lips in the half light,
the bruises under her eyes.
'mister, i have to feed the baby,
i dont have anything to offer you...'

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poem by Eric Cockrell
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Reach Out My Hand!

there are more stars
in the sky than we can name.
more drops of water in the ocean
than we can count...

the wind comes and goes
as it will beyond our control.
and so few understand
the language of clouds...

so why do we think
that we can define,
and confine God!
the fire warms, but you cannot hold!

so i kneel in the Mosques,
in reverent stillness praying.
i sing the old hymns
in the old Baptist churches.

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poem by Eric Cockrell
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Birthing Pains (Day Of Change)

world in turmoil... time of the end, or birthing pains?
peoples of all countries... common, everyday, honest,
hard working, dreaming... battling against the oppression
of the few, those who control, those who profit at the expense
of human life, without remorse! and now we can communicate!
we see each other, we hear each other, as if side by side,
in the battle for human dignity.
should there be hunger? should there be families without
shelter? should there be children without chance? can this
world continue with the elite having too much, and so many
people suffering? no!
birthing pains, a new world, a new day! a cohesive journey
taken together!
freedom demand equality, acceptance without prejudice,
and a fair distribution of what life has to offer! no free rides,
all working together! accepting the need for intelligent
questioning, and for diversity!
the voice of the peoples grows stronger, almost a roar!
it is the day of change!

poem by Eric Cockrell
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I Am For

i am for...
justice, equality,
equal distribution of goods.
the right to work,
to speak out, to stand up...
i am for truth at all costs,
for freedom of religion...
i am for peace right now,
right here, and always.
i am for education for all,
for growing our own food.
for breaking the curse of oil...
i am for gay rights, and their right to marry.
i am for diversity, and unity,
and yes you can have both.

i am against...
war, bigotry, greed,
and anything that divides.
i am against the use of force,

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poem by Eric Cockrell
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