Falling, Without Restraint....
it is no longer about living or dying,
but merely falling like rain...
on the good and the evil,
the wanted and unwanted,
on both the poor and the rich.
on the man, the woman, and the child,
the stray dog, and the empty field.
on the broken, the wounded,
and the sorrowful...
falling, without restraint!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Mystic Anchor
human beings race around
like mad rats praising a God
that they barely know,
and wouldnt recognize
if they met Him on the street...
hoping for a quick fix,
a lucky talisman, a mystic anchor
against storms of our own design.
a nod of the head to eternity,
as life pours from a boot
onto bloody streets...
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Pen And Brush!
you are the poetry
that i cannot write,
the raw and simple beauty
my words cannot define....
the fire too hot, too close,
singeing the corners
of my heart.
the pulsing of life itself,
that began before,
and will last beyond....
you are the touch of life,
that i follow madly,
pen and brush in hand!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Rain
seems like the hardest thing
a man can do
after a lifetime of battles,
triumphs and losses,
loving and losing...
is to dropp everything he has,
everything he knows, and
believes in
at the door...
and walk out into the rain...
alone and naked, with his
eyes, heart, and hands open,
and no expectations!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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The Footprint You Left...
the footprint you left
in the damp earth of my soul,
testifies in the room of inner silence.
i've named falling stars after you for years...
perhaps i should have named them after me!
now it is not the bridge or the lantern,
not even the bottomless chasm.
it is the choice, and of that,
destiny is formed!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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The True Disciple (For Hune)
the true disciple,
wearing the robes of doubt...
dividing the atoms of the soul,
searching for fibers that connect.
exploring universes of question,
whetted by the blade of truth;
to immerse in 'i and thou'...
crossing the final desert
to the promised land!
the true disciple,
follows his own footsteps!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Never Named, Never Cried
she carries the stink of fear,
barely covered by her perfume;
...dark eye shadow,
.......high heels,
.....and breasts a'bulge....
falls in love once a month,
....almost without miss...
never speaks of the dreams
....she carries of him;
never once looks at his picture...
never named tears never cried!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Then They Shovel Dirt!
when you quit being
awed by living...
then you are already dead.
when you have no more to give,
then you've closed,
and bolted the door.
when your eyes no longer see beauty,
then you are forever blind!
when you are not touched
by the need of all living beings...
then they shovel dirt,
and mumble prayers!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Can't!
i cant kill any more children
in the name of oil....
cant starve any more people
in the name of wealth.
cant evict any more families
in the name of success.
cant bomb any more foreigners
in the name of God.
cant steal any more lands
in the name of patriotism...
cant lie to myself anymore,
and call it freedom!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Need
i dont need
anyone else
to be happy...
i need to make peace
with myself...
i need everyone else
to be fulfilled...
i cant breathe
unless you're breathing...
i dont need
accolades, pats on the back,
or bribes...
but i do need
to be treated with respect...
and allowed my dignity...
i'll do the same
[...] Read more
poem by Eric Cockrell
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