I Am (Continued)

i am, become...
i am the lonesome wail
of streets gone empty,
of factories deserted,
of shops closed down.
i am the abortion clinic bombed
by the right wing fanatic,
and the baby left with a baby
that she cannot raise.

i am the food pantry,
the mission, the soup line...
my faces used to be your neighbors.
i am the tractor rusted in the snow,
the well gone dry...

i am the young gay couple
wanting so much to marry,
i am the fundamentalist afraid
of anything i dont understand.

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poem by Eric Cockrell
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Conversations With Hune (Part Three)

if the child becomes a parent,
and the parent becomes a child...
is growing older an illusion?

does salvation denote
being saved from oneself,
or from all else?

is prayer something we say,
something we feel,
or something we do?
or merely the act of breathing?

do whales laugh at our ignorance?
do dogs weep for our fears?
do birds intimately know freedom?
if so, why are we
the 'dominant species'?

or are we whales,

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poem by Eric Cockrell
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I Walk Alone...

i am the last rebellion,
the fire you cannot control.
i am the faces of lost bodies,
names written in blood.
i am the call to battle,
armed by the heart.
i am the silence that knows,
the darkness that takes.
i am poverty's shadow,
and the language of need.
i am the anger of the beaten,
i am the field forsaken.
i am the tint of skin,
and the color of the eyes....
the song of the shovel and whip.
i am the bones of the old ones,
shaking with rage.
the tears of the grandmothers,
the dirty hands of small children.
i am the soldier imprisoned,

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poem by Eric Cockrell
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The Scriptures

i read the scriptures written in human faces,
in calloused hands, in bruises and scars.
in the spider's web, in the trail of the snail.
in the pot stained with use,
in the axe and the plow.
in the old woman's silence,
in the broken window.
in worn out boots, and the broken lock.
in the gravel drive,
in the eyes of the hungry....
in the fear of those oppressed by war.
in the dead squirrel's body,
in the nest left empty.
in the prisoner staring
through a window barred.
in the old man's chair,
a dog's turd and a hill of ants.
in the fallen leaf,
in the empty room.
in solitude and stillness,

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poem by Eric Cockrell
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Howl (The Returning, Part Two)

gods hate, too damned late,
you worship what you fear!
while buddhas whisper
behind hidden doors,
and leaves fall from trees condemned!
souls traded, manipulated,
for a loaf of bread.
childrens' bodies, wrapped in money,
never make a sound.
bought votes, sacrificial goats,
toe the party line.
buildings blaze, justice burns,
the bells of liberty chime.
the human hand rises from the rubble,
grasping at poisoned air.
the tears of those long since dead,
fall like nuclear rain!

love me, hate me,
see me with your eyes.

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poem by Eric Cockrell
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What If

what if Jesus and Magdalene
were lovers... and their
descendants were marching
for peace and equal rights
somewhere in the Mid-East?

and what if nuclear power
is a cancer... disguised as
progress... that sneaks up
on and devours the living?

what if money is a drug?
an addiction that cant be cured....
that drives a man to leave his
family, and all that he believes in,
to find a fix?

what if Aids and other new diseases
are just germ warfare... the tools
of the elite to weed out the poor?

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poem by Eric Cockrell
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Nails in the Coffin

there's an American flag burning
in a barrel down in a broken alley.
three homeless vets warming their hands,
passing smokes, and a bottle of 'mad dog'.

paint peeling from the haunted porch
of a vacant house; trash blows
across the yard and down the street,
an old dog waits furtively at the door.

and the girl with the needle, and
painted eyes, sprawled naked in the tub...
watching roaches crawl across the floor,
fear struck dreams and the mother rush.

little boy playing in hand-me-down clothes
left out on the sidewalk in the cold.
hungry, and he just dont know to care,
wonders when his mom is coming home.

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poem by Eric Cockrell
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How Do We Deal With Prejudice?

even those of us who've worked very hard
at not being prejudiced, have some type of
prejudice remaining. for example:
it could be prejudice by color, over religion,
over political views, concerning sexual orient-
ation.... prejudice against those who have money,
or those who dont! ...etc.
all prejudice is wrong by nature, most of it grounded
in the 'self'... in our own irrational fears, and our
stubborn streak of ignorance....
it's always taught, but doesnt have to be allowed!
it ofen hides under the banner of morality, or the
flags of patriotism...
we battle prejudice by being open minded, being
willing to listen, and learning to see ourselves
in other people...
if we say we have no prejudices, we have lost,
and prejudice has us bound.
if we admit our prejudices, name them, look at
them with naked eyes and resolve, then we're making

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poem by Eric Cockrell
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You And I

you and i
are the reason
things are
the way they are...

no, we didnt invade
Iraq and Afghanistan,
but we voted for
the clowns that ordained
these actions...
or, even worse,
didnt vote at all.

no, we didnt cause
the big oil spill...
yet by our reckless
consuming lifestyles,
driving our big SUV's
going nowhere...
maybe we did!

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poem by Eric Cockrell
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Day Is Done

nuclear fission, sins of omission,
hide your eyes, buy the lies!
hearts gone numb, minds struck dumb,
the flesh dies, stink and flies.
roll down the window, just past tomorrow,
trading souls, fighting for control.
politicians kiss and tell, on the road to hell,
the fire gone cold, nothing left to hold.

broken down, running on empty.
packs of wolves roam the cities.
children's bodies down in the alleys,
nowhere to run, day is done!
nowhere to run, day is done!

the curse of invasion, profitable occasions.
fly the flag, drums and bodybags.
different shades and colors, forgotten brothers,
it's easier to kill, than it is to feel!
the cries and the voices, ghosts of our choices,

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poem by Eric Cockrell
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