Old Men (No One Knows
old men rust and creak,
in their bodies, in their souls;
wrinkle into their chairs
till neither is one....
having paid every penny
of the price of life,
rung up, and forgotten.....
shadows without purpose,
untouched in the cold.
every brick laid seamless,
without distinction,
or identity....
old men wrinkle into their chairs,
and no one knows.
poem by Eric Cockrell
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The Real Revolution
for too long
our bodies have been empty shells
driven by fossil fuels!
occupy Wall Street!
occupy New York!
occupy San Francisco....
occupy the whole damned country!
occupy our bodies!
fill
...the
.....emptiness
w ith
...human
.....desire,
compassion
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poem by Eric Cockrell
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Buddha Steps #4
i cant hate you!
no matter how angry
you make me,
how many times you hurt me,
use me, abuse me.
no matter what you believe,
what language you speak,
what color you are.
what party you're a part of,
how you dress,
who you screw.
or what you dream of.
because everytime i look at you,
i see me.
and everytime i hear you cry
i feel the tears of God.
poem by Eric Cockrell
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How Can I Not Know?
how many of my actions
...are shallow graves,
for the children, unnamed,
and unborn....
how many of my thoughts
...are their tombstones,
standing, testifying
in the sun....
how many of my words
...are their epitaphs,
written with the greed
that feeds the self?
how many of my days
....at the expense of theirs,
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poem by Eric Cockrell
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Mercy # 4
Jesus saves, rob the graves,
take the spirit from the souls.
desecrate, humiliate,
all that glitters can be sold.
freedom's voice, no longer a choice,
sell the truth for a dime.
nameless faces, numbered traces,
head down marching in a line!
and the hands on the clock
crawl like justice spurned...
tick tock, tick tock,
mercy gives what mercy earns!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Broken Cup
every living being wants
to hold and be held...
even the tree embraces the sky,
drops its leaves, as its sap
runs warm...
do you hate me so much?
no, that would take passion.
and to you i'm nothing
but a cemetary, a headstone,...
a vagrant crow...
a yellowed page in a book
no one takes off the shelf.
moth balls and insulin,
a broken cup on the floor.
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Duct Tape World
rice and beans,
in the slow pot...
morning hangs,
duct tape lives
in the balance....
eyes wide open,
looking both ways...
grab a smoke,
and a shovel....
join in!
wiping last night's love
from the corner of the eyes,
or maybe just memory,
and an empty chair....
long autumn day
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poem by Eric Cockrell
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Forgotten Time
bumming around
the country...
sleeping under bridges,
or just under...
the night sky...
working when i
could find it.
selling blood
when i couldnt!
gather a little change,
stop in a diner
for a cup of
black coffee...
writing poems
on napkins
with pencils...
[...] Read more
poem by Eric Cockrell
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God's Image!
if you are created
in God's image...
i'm not sure i like your God!
or at the very least,
not His actions!
salvation, and capitalism,
are two seperate things.
compassion does not kill,
does not starve,
does not enslave,
does not abuse!
you speak of Satan,
and his cruel horrors.
perhaps he is your god!
that would explain the
blood on your hands!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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It's Just Me!
do you hear...
the stranger's voice,
singing softly,
as he sweeps the floor
of your room?
do you hear
the whirr of
the butterfly's wings,
flying just outside your window?
do you hear
the silence of the rain,
falling just outside your door?
do you hear
the beating of the heart,
rhyming yours,
filling the void with light?
it's just me...
let me in!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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